


Genesis / In the Beginning

by Ardatli



Category: Young Avengers (Comics)
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, M/M, Pining, Pre-Canon, Prompt Fill, Some things are more one-sided than others, get-together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:13:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 23,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21752041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ardatli/pseuds/Ardatli
Summary: A prompt fill: "what if it wasn’t love at first sight?"The realization was as awful as it had been slow-building, loud enough now that he couldn’t force himself to ignore it any longer.Maybe it wasn’t Teddy who was the asshole.
Relationships: Teddy Altman/Billy Kaplan
Comments: 28
Kudos: 177





	1. Billy

Billy Kaplan was super-familiar with the jock type.

They weren’t the all-pervasive school-ruining stereotype from the Disney Channel shows, _obviously_. And some of the ones at his school even talked to him, thanks mostly to his bench-warming presence on the track team.

 _Sports build character,_ his mother liked to remind him. And _being well-rounded is extremely important for college applications, Billy; would it kill you to try?_

So he did track, because it didn’t involve the possibility of being tackled into a concussion by some oaf three times his size. And because of track he knew some of the meatheads by name, even if they never made room for him at their tables at lunch. They weren’t _all_ bad. But he wasn’t like them, and they weren’t like him. The sportsball kids knew it even before he’d figured out he was gay, long before his powers manifested.

Junior high, Billy was convinced, had existed solely to set up the hierarchies into which they’d all get shoved for the duration of high school. Maybe for life. And like sharks smelling blood in the water, anyone who was different became prey. He really wasn’t interested in being prey.

Especially not once he had this incredible thing he could do, something that made him special-weird rather than just picked-on-weird. Once Nate started talking to him, brought the team together, it felt like… like he was on the verge of something amazing. Something that was entirely his own, untainted by the slings and arrows of high school cliques.

Until the fourth guy showed up.

They didn’t even _need_ a hitter – Eli’s super-soldier genes had that under control. And hooray, he was tall and blond and square-jawed gorgeous, like a younger version of Captain America.

Cap had never been Billy’s favourite Avenger. Not even close.

The new guy sauntered up to the group sitting at the fountain in the park in a letter jacket (strike one) and a baseball cap (strike two), his backpack tossed casually over his shoulder. He moved like he owned his body, like his elbows and knees always went where he told them to. Like he never panicked about walking up to the board in class because he might trip over his own shoelaces and fall, right there in front of everybody. Serious strike three.

It wasn’t jealousy, and it was definitely _not_ a crush. Billy wasn’t blind, but he was also heavily invested in not getting his head shoved in a toilet for flirting with the wrong person.

It was in everyone’s best interest for him to ignore Teddy Altman, king of all jocks, as much as humanly possible.

* * *

He had to reluctantly agree that the shape-shifting thing was pretty cool. And the way Teddy was starting to figure out how to use it — being the Hulk, Iron Man, freaking _Thor_ — was impressive.

Deeply unlike Billy, who was still struggling with his powers. He could call the lightning down, sometimes. It made little sparks more often than not, especially when he was distracted. And he was distracted a lot, these days.

Flying was worse. He’d thought maybe… Nate could do it, and they could use two flyers, and it was something Mr. Perfect couldn’t do. Not unless he figured out wings, anyway. But the first few tries only left Billy sitting on the ground and feeling like an idiot.

He got airborne precisely once. It took a second after Eli’s loud whistle to open his eyes and realize that he was hovering a few inches above the ground instead of sitting on it cross-legged. He floundered in shock and that sent him tumbling, floating in a halo of blue that turned him around, weightless, until it popped and dropped him on his head. There was no escaping the humiliation. And when Billy picked himself up out of the dirt, face flushed hot, of course Teddy was _right there_. His hand closed around Billy’s to help him up, even though they barely got along, as if to rub it in that Billy had just wiped out in front of everyone.

“Thanks,” Billy mumbled, scrubbing his sweaty hands on the thighs of his jeans. It was gratitude on autopilot, trying not to be rude, but it obviously wasn’t enough. Teddy shrugged, just as noncommittal, and shoved his hands in his pockets.

“You’ll get it,” he offered after an awkward pause. It didn’t sound condescending, but it wasn’t exactly encouraging either. And all Billy had to offer was a thin smile in return. 

* * *

Sparring with Teddy… that was the thing that definitely wasn’t going to work.

Billy’s day had been a shitpile already, and the only bright spark had been knowing that he was going out to the field that evening. Teddy was still hanging around, but training was becoming something special anyway. They were starting to gel, maybe a little, even if Eli did spend most of his time telling them what they were doing wrong.

Except this time Billy was already sore, his jeans and long sleeves thankfully covering the bloody skid-mark scrapes down his elbows and knees from the rough concrete outside the school. Kesler was staying away from him these days, had ever since the whole ‘electrocution’ thing. But that didn’t stop his crowd of mouth-breathing morons from hassling Billy when they got the chance.

This time it had been a foot stuck out in his path when he came running down the front stairs at lunchtime. Just enough to be plausibly deniable if Billy went tattling to an adult. And doing _that_ would mean his parents getting involved. They would take a small thing and make it a huge deal, involving meetings with the principal, maybe even the school board if his mother was insistent enough, and then there’d be all the concerned looks and gentle pats on the shoulder at home… none of which he could cope with. Not right now.

Billy Kaplan was one-hundred-percent out of cope.

Now, facing off with a muscle-guy, Teddy’s fist strong enough to send Billy into orbit if he decided not to pull his punches — it brought every awful thing racing back.

Billy’s elbows and knees stung, the dried blood itching around the edges of the scabs. His shoulder ached down to the bone from where he’d landed on it, though at least that one hadn’t turned into a visible bruise.

He hurt. He hurt, and he _resented_. And now Teddy had his hands up in a fighting stance, waiting for Billy to engage, and Billy’s head started to throb like it was about to burst. Sparks flared over his hands, the energy building up brutal and fast somewhere inside, and he didn’t have Teddy’s level of control.

The memory flooded him even as he fought against it. The fist coming at his face, the way Kesler had screamed when the charge hit him- ( _it wasn’t my fault, I didn’t know I could do that… I didn’t know_ ).

The smell, more than anything—burnt hair, crackling ozone, and his own puke.

He’d stumbled, scrambled and run, throwing up in a corner of the boys’ bathroom while his body shook and shook for what felt like days.

In the here and now he stumbled again, only backwards this time. Billy shook his head, ignoring the flash of something—anger, hurt, didn’t matter—in Teddy’s eyes. “Sorry. I’m not- I gotta go.”

“Billy? Billy, wait- _Asgardian!_ ”

He started walking, the sparks crackling over him until they weren’t anymore. He didn’t stop until he was on the train, his head buried in his shaking hands, and the memories of John Kesler’s terrified eyes had finally started to fade from his vision.

* * *

No-one mentioned his freak-out the next time they all met up, but Nate didn’t set him up against Teddy again.

And Teddy… he just bit his lip and _looked_ at Billy, not saying anything.

Billy was the first to look away.

* * *

The wet dreams about Teddy were deeply unfair. It was as though Billy’s raging hormones had taken a look around, picked the worst possible focus, and homed right in.

Objectively speaking, he got it. There wasn’t a person alive on the planet who would argue the fact. Teddy Altman was unfairly beautiful. Waking up sticky made things even more confusing and awful, the images from his restless nights bleeding into their meetings during the day.

He was perfect, the asshole. Gorgeous, tall, muscled, _blond_ , probably never had a pimple a day of his life. He had powers that he could control and some that he didn’t even have to think about. The dumb jerk was probably on student council, too. Popular, girls falling all over him, prom king kind of material.

Teddy was so unlike Billy in every way that it made him want to scream.

And touch him, to prove that his stupid muscles were real. And keep touching him, all over- then maybe punch him, at least once, for getting to live life on easy mode. Imagine what that would be like, never having to worry about what anyone else thought of you, just… sailing through the world, knowing you had it all in the bag even before turning eighteen.

What would that be like, just for a day? Ugh. Billy flopped over face-first on his unmade bed and tried to will away the ache in his groin that had started up the moment he’d started thinking about stupid-gorgeous Teddy Altman and his hateful, perfect face.

What did any of this even mean? Did Billy want to kiss him (kind of a lot), _be_ him, or punch him in those gleaming white, even teeth? Maybe all those things at once.

Billy grabbed his pillow and wrapped it around his head, counting on the foam and fabric to muffle his frustrated primal scream.

If Teddy weren’t around, life would be a whole lot less confusing.

* * *

There were times when he wondered if he’d been wrong from the start. Teddy helping him up had been one of those moments, but there were others.

When he was throwing a football around with Eli before Nate called them all to order, never once sailing it over Eli’s head on purpose, or mocking him when he missed a catch.

When he sat cross-legged on the ground listening to Nate and Eli plan out the next workout, picking at the frayed hem of his old cargo pants. There was something soft there, almost vulnerable and hopeful. Until he caught Billy looking, anyway. Then his expression closed right down.

When he was so careful to pull his punches when he was sparring with Nate, even when Nate was all armoured up. Even before Nate called him on it, Billy could tell. He was holding back, trying not to hurt anyone. Even by accident.

When Billy overheard him talking to Eli, his laugh sounding so real and genuine- and Billy wondered what their reaction would be if he walked over and tried to join the conversation. Would Teddy turn out to be like the jerk squad after all?

Maybe. Maybe not. Finding out now wasn’t the worst possible future. Trusting him, getting to know him, dropping his guard, _liking_ him, and _then_ finding out that he was the kind of jock who’d happily kick the shit out of his school’s nerds and fags.

That would be the worst thing.

* * *

It wouldn’t suck so badly if Billy had been half as good with his powers as Teddy was with his. Training that afternoon, for instance. Teddy was bouncing through a dozen different shapes, tossing Eli around like he was made of feathers, and Billy couldn’t even focus enough to get more than a spark going.

Yesterday had been better, he’d had more control; but he hadn’t been able to sleep last night, his brain whirling and spinning too fast to let rest happen. Billy gave up on trying to harness lightning with his fingers and flopped down on the ground away from the others.

He stared up at the clear blue sky and held his hands up in front of his face, hoping, wishing, _praying_ for something to work out for him, just this once. Please?

The sky didn’t change, and Billy felt very small and inadequate by comparison.

“I wish…”

But what should he say after that? He didn’t know what he was wishing for, exactly. To be anyone but himself. To actually be able to do the one thing that had made him worth the effort for someone.

A shadow passed over him and then Teddy was dropping down to sit beside him. Billy bolted upright, panic hitting, arms coming up in case now was when it started- the comments, followed by the beat-downs- followed by Teddy, who already had everything, taking this away from him too.

“You’re really jumpy,” was all Teddy said, though. Not what Billy had expected, but maybe he should have. For all Billy’s worrying, Teddy had never once done anything that Billy could put his finger on and say _here – here’s the proof that he’s a bully_. A frown creased the space between Teddy’s eyebrows instead. Judging him. “Is… everything okay?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Billy was on the defensive before he could think it through. Teddy was so close, too close. He wanted—his body wanted a whole lot of things all at once and all of them impossible. His brain was sending up red alert and danger flares faster than he could count them, so fast he could barely catch his breath. “Bad day, that’s all. We can’t all be superstars,” he added, the snide jab darting out before he could close his teeth on the insult. 

“That’s not- you know what? Never mind.” Teddy pushed himself up abruptly and slouched off. Something about his walk, the hands in his pockets, a slump in his shoulders… he looked sad, and he looked hurt. Like a kicked puppy.

It didn’t fit the narrative. The red alerts in Billy’s head died off with a whimper, not a bang.

* * *

Teddy was late to the next practice and for a moment Billy wondered. But Nate didn’t seem concerned.

It should have been easier without him there, easier to concentrate, easier to make his powers come to him. And it was, kind of. The lightning surged along his arms when he asked for it, and he knocked Nate’s targets out of the air on the first try. Five up, five down. The drones dropped, scattering little bits of nanotech everywhere, some of it still smoldering. Nate clapped him on the back, even Eli seemed impressed.

But Billy kept looking over his shoulder.

When Teddy did show up, a bounce in his step and a huge smile on his face, his cheeks flushed from running and his eyes brighter blue than Billy had ever seen them before- Billy’s first reaction was relief.

_What was that about?_

Billy hung back from the chatter and the welcomes, using the drone parts as an excuse. When he had them all gathered up in the folds of his t-shirt, the three other guys were still talking and laughing.

“…state semi-finals. I was sure we weren’t going to make it, but bam—Greg sank the ball with ten seconds on the clock. We’re still in, 2-2!”

“When’s the next game?”

“Sunday at Central. You should come, it’ll be awesome-”

It went quieter when he got back to them. Teddy turned away and dropped his bag and jacket on the ground, while Nate collected the parts from Billy to start rebuilding the targets for the next round.

“Congratulations,” Billy blurted out. “That’s great.” It was, but Billy hadn’t missed the way the light had dimmed in Teddy’s eyes when he’d gotten close.

A pain in his chest twisted tighter.

“Thanks,” was all Teddy said.

Billy didn’t bring it up again until after, when they were packing up and all his muscles ached in unison. “Is that why Teddy was late today?” he asked Nate, all casual-like.

“The game? Yes. He told us last week that his team made it to state. He sent me the schedule so we could work around his game days.” Nate frowned at him, zipping his backpack closed. “Why?”

“Just wondering, that’s all. He didn’t mention it to me.” Billy kicked at a tuft of grass, unsettled and restless in his skin.

“Why would he?” Nate asked, no meanness there, just curiosity, as though the idea had never occurred to him. “You’ve made it clear you don’t like him.”

_… oh._

The realization was as awful as it had been slow-building, loud enough now that he couldn’t force himself to ignore it any longer.

Maybe it wasn’t _Teddy_ who was the asshole.

* * *

The sick feeling lingered in Billy’s stomach all the way home. His parents didn’t seem to notice at first, too busy chasing the brats to make them do their homework, get ready for soccer, pick up their room. He slumped across the kitchen table, stretching his arms out in front of him until his fingers just about brushed the far side. He was getting taller; he hadn’t been able to reach that far last year.

Billy let his head thump softly against the table’s cool surface, trying to absorb something—anything—that would make everything feel different. He wasn’t even gunning for better. Just different.

The table wasn’t super-helpful.

His mother’s footsteps sounded behind him and he didn’t move, not until the empty chair next to him creaked with her weight and a hand started rubbing gentle circles on his back.

“Honey? Everything okay?”

He could deflect, like he usually did, make up some story or just refuse to talk. But this time the problem felt too big, and he was too small, and caught in the middle. Billy sat up a little, pulling his arms in underneath his chin. Not so much that she would stop rubbing his back; he’d never admit it to his little brothers, but right now the soothing contact felt good.

“I may have misjudged someone. Pretty badly.” Billy admitted, easing his way into the subject. It felt better just to say it, get the whole awful thing out into the air where it could be dealt with. Hopefully by someone smarter and wiser than him.

His mother’s hand didn’t stop, the slow circles as soothing and reassuring now as they had been when he’d had the flu at ten, or the chicken pox at five. “Someone from school?”

Billy shook his head. “No—a guy I met. A friend of a friend.” That wasn’t actually a lie. “And I thought he was a meathead, you know? Just another big dumb jock who liked to use nerds for punching bags.”

His mother made a noncommittal sound, something like a hum, a verbal nod that meant _I’m listening._ At least she wasn’t calling him out for calling someone a ‘meathead.’ “But he’s not?”

“He’s not,” Billy replied glumly. “I think he might actually be pretty nice. And I really messed up.”

_I’m a puppy-kicker._

“Have you considered talking to him? A lot of things can be fixed if you use your words.” Of course that would be her answer. It was what she did for a living. 

“It’s not that easy,” Billy protested, the enormity of his mistakes starting to spool out in front of him. “Because if he's not the jerk... That makes _me_ the jerk.” He dropped his head onto his folded arms, his words coming out muffled. “He might not want to talk to me. I probably wouldn’t want to talk to me.”

She didn’t speak for a moment, but when she did her voice was still kind and gentle, not lecturey or bossy the way she got when she was trying to organize everything for him. “Life’s not a zero-sum game. Sometimes both people in a disagreement are jerks... And sometimes neither of them are. Some personalities simply aren’t compatible and there’s no blame involved.”

Not compatible? That idea struck hard and sucked more than anything else had. Because of the team, and Nate believing in them, that was why. Nate had put all his trust in _them_ , had tried to help Billy become everything he’d ever wanted to be, and Teddy was a part of that. Even if the thought of him did horrible and twisty things to Billy’s insides.

“Why can’t life just be simple?” he sighed out loud, all his misery reverberating in that heavy puff of air. “I’ll never get this right.”

“You're fifteen, honey. You don't have to have everything figured out. I'd be very surprised and a little bit suspicious if you did.” She stopped rubbing his back and gave him a hug instead, her lips pressing soft against the top of his head. “Make a plan, think about what you’re going to say to make sure you really mean it, and then apologize. As long as it’s from the heart, things will work out.”

Billy nodded, not exactly cheered up. She wasn’t wrong, but she hadn’t let him off the hook either. If he wanted to make things right, he was going to have to do the work.

She stood, the chair creaking again as she rose to her feet.

“Now, if the immediate crisis is averted, help me set table for dinner.”

“And if it isn’t?” he asked, lifting his head and flashing her a half-hearted grin. She matched it with a smile of her own.

“Set the table anyway.”

* * *

Sunday at Central, Teddy had said. He also hadn’t invited Billy to the game, but Billy went anyway. It wasn’t hard to find, though the arena was standing-room only by the time Billy wormed his way in through the back rows to a place where he could see what was happening on the court.

Basketball, obviously enough, and he could pick out Teddy right away. He wasn’t a bench-warmer, like Billy on the track team. He was right in the middle of everything, hair gleaming gold and ALTMAN curved in big letters over the numbers on his back.

And he was really, really, good. Billy let himself feel it, now that he was an anonymous face in the crowd, no-one watching his reactions at all. Teddy was _good_ , and he wasn’t a glory-hog, passing the ball off more often than he took a shot himself.

But when he did, it went in.

He might have had Nate’s training to thank for some of that hand-eye coordination, but Billy suspected that it was just one of those things that had been part of him all along.

He let himself name the feeling for once — envy. And a specific kind of hopelessness that came along with it. _You’ll never be that good at anything._ But that wasn’t Teddy’s fault, was it?

The first half of the game went a lot faster than Billy realized, the teams clearing off the court when halftime was called. Fifteen minutes. He had fifteen minutes to find Teddy, apologize, and then … then he didn’t know what he was going to do. It would depend on what Teddy did.

No-one really blinked at a high-school kid at a high school basketball game, and he was able to get out to the hallway with the locker rooms easily enough. Billy’s heart was already racing when he heard the raised voice, and he picked up speed until he came around the corner.

Teddy stood there in the hall outside the locker room door, his hair sweaty and a towel in his hand. He wasn’t alone. A taller guy, dark hair, same uniform, was with him. Not _with_ him, but staring him down, his finger pointing in Teddy’s face, looming over him like he had some kind of right to get into Teddy’s space. ‘NORRIS’ was written on his back and his shoulders were as broad as Teddy’s, maybe even bigger.

And Teddy was small. Not small like he was shape-shifting, but small and curled in on himself, back against the wall and his head down. He wasn’t fighting back, not even when ‘Norris’ got right up in his face and hissed something that Billy couldn’t hear over the pulsing waves of blood in his ears.

It was so familiar, so goddamned familiar that Billy was in motion before he could stop himself, only barely able to keep his hands from sparking to life. “Hey!”

The guy reeled back, giving Teddy room to breathe again, and turned on Billy. “What’s your problem, pipsqueak?”

Teddy found his voice, shook his head at- at _Billy?_ “Billy, it’s … it’s okay.” And put a hand on the guy’s shoulder. “Can we have a sec?” he asked quietly, and the thick, boiling tension that had filled the hallway a second before seemed to settle into something only half-awful.

“Norris! In here!” The locker room door opened and the coach called out to them.

Norris turned and glared at Teddy, pointing two fingers towards his own eyes, and then back at Teddy’s, in a ridiculous posturing warning. Billy snorted, couldn’t help it, but the guy ignored him before bashing back through the door and out of their way.

Teddy didn’t follow him, but he didn’t meet Billy’s eyes either, taking a moment to towel the sweat from his hair. This wasn’t right. Teddy was the confident one, the powerful one, the hero Billy would never be Paladin-enough to be. This version of him was wary, careful. How much of that was because Billy had broken something with his carelessness and his bitterness?

How much of it was about something else entirely?

He swallowed hard and found his voice. “What was that all about?”

Teddy shook his head. “Just trash talk, whatever. It’s fine. What are you doing here?”

“I heard you tell Eli and Nate when the game was. I wanted to… I don’t know.” Billy wasn’t going to be able to say everything he wanted to in the few minutes they’d have, if he kept taking that long to get to the point. The words he’d prepared came out in a rush, tumbling over each other in their eagerness to get out. “To make things right. I’ve been a huge jerk to you and we’re a team. We’re supposed to have each other’s backs, not be the ones sticking knives in them.”

In the moment, though, that didn’t exactly work the way it was supposed to. Billy frowned at the locker room door. “Speaking of teams, is he always like that?”

Teddy snorted a soft laugh, or something close to one, some of his wariness starting to fade. “Nah. Sometimes he’s downright mean.”

Billy smothered a snicker, absolutely sure that it was the wrong moment.

Teddy sighed, rubbing the back of his neck with the towel. “Greg’s a friend. He was, I mean… I don’t know what he is now. He’s mad that I’ve been spending time with you guys instead of him,” he confessed, looking sidelong at Billy as though to gauge his reaction. “But… maybe I’m just not meant to be part of the popular crowd.”

Every moment of the conversation was throwing a new gut-punch or right hook at Billy’s worldview, and he blinked at that revelation. “And here I thought you were the popular crowd.”

“Me?” Teddy scoffed. “Not likely. I can quote too much of Star Wars verbatim for that.”

“Star Wars? Please. That’s practically mainstream now,” Billy sent right back with a bright grin, not thinking about being kind, or gentle, or all the things he’d promised himself he would get better at.

He didn’t get the laugh he was hoping for. Teddy hesitated instead, chewing on his bottom lip, his whole demeanor so unsure. Protective instincts still all riled up, Billy surprised himself with a flash of hate for that look on his face and whatever had put it there.

“… and Greg found out that I like boys. Things got kind of… awkward after that. But they need me on the team if we want to win this year, so he can’t kick me off. Just make things uncomfortable.” This time it was Teddy’s words spilling out all over themselves, his face shutting down and going very, very still right after. 

(There was something else he wasn’t talking about, something big was in his pauses. But that didn’t matter right now in the face of this first, most vital revelation.)

“… wait, what?” The world recentered itself ten degrees to the left and Billy was just along for the ride.

Teddy’s frown deepened, the wariness racing back in. “You’re not freaking out, are you? I thought you were- that you’d be okay with that.”

“I am—okay with it. And gay. Not freaking out. Okay, that’s a lie, I’m freaking out as well. I… wow.” Billy dropped to sit on the bench that ran along one wall, his brain too busy processing to divert any extra work to things like standing.

“I can’t believe that I got things so wrong.” He had to re-evaluate everything and didn’t have the time to try and put anything into the right order. “I made the wrong assumptions. The really, _really_ wrong assumptions.”

 _I am_ definitely _the puppy-kicker in this scenario._

Teddy drifted a step closer, but still not within arm’s reach. “So you don’t hate me? I’ve been trying to figure out what I did, but I have to be honest, Billy. I don’t know what’s going on with you. Or how to make anything better.”

How much time did Billy have left to explain? Seven minutes? Five?

“It’s not you.” That was the important part. Billy sank his head into his hands and ran his fingers through his hair, messing it up. “Just now, with your friend Greg—that kind of thing is pretty much my entire life. Only the last time a big guy really got in my face, I electrocuted him. By accident, I swear it was an accident.”

The bench settled and Billy looked up. Teddy sat at the other end, his elbows on his knees and towel around his neck. “Was he okay?” Teddy asked quietly.

“He in was in the hospital for a couple of days.” Billy wrapped his arms around his chest, holding everything in. “But before that—hell, after that too. I spend a lot of time getting knocked around. The usual suspects, not too fond of gay nerds. Guys like Greg, with the ball caps and the letter jackets-”

“Guys like me,” Teddy guessed. Comprehension crossed his expressive face then, comprehension and maybe recognition, and understanding, compassion- none of the things that Billy had earned.

“Sometimes.” It hurt to say, even though he’d spent the last few months thinking it.

“I’m not like that,” Teddy said, still quiet, and the hitch in his voice was something Billy had put there.

Billy let go, turned to face him, sacked up and met it head-on. _Apologize. As long as it’s from the heart, things will work out._ “I know. I’ve been a huge jerk to you, and you didn’t deserve any of it. I am so sorry. Really, incredibly sorry.”

Teddy nodded. “It’s okay. I get it now.” Whatever iron rings had been crushing Billy’s chest through the whole conversation let go and vanished into nothing.

Should he push his luck? Billy swallowed even though his mouth was dry, and wet his lips with the tip of his tongue. “So we’re good?” 

The pause ticked over, long enough for the lump to come back into Billy’s throat. What if it wasn’t enough? What if he’d been too much of a butthead to be forgiven just like that? Teddy didn’t have to let it go, after all. Except then he smiled, small and a little bit hopeful. “Yeah. We’re good.”

Billy sighed with relief so profound that he half-melted against the wall behind them, and Teddy laughed. “Thank you,” Billy replied fervently. “I have felt like such an ass, and I know I need to make it up to you. More than just this, I mean. Do you have plans – that is, you and the guys, after the game?” Now that the hard part was over, maybe he could make an immediate start at fixing things, _really_ fixing them.

“Not with the guys,” Teddy admitted, shrugging his shoulders. “My mom’s here, she’s taking me for burgers after.”

Of course she was. But not his dad; Billy wondered, but managed to clamp down on his runaway mouth before he asked out loud. Not the place, not the time. “Okay,” he said instead, reluctant to just get up and leave. “Never mind, then.”

“Why?” Teddy asked. He was already rising to his feet, glancing at the clock mounted high on the school wall.

Billy followed suit, worrying at the side of his thumbnail. He caught himself at it and shoved his hands into his pockets instead. “I was thinking this whole ‘get to know and trust my teammate’ thing would work better if we could, y’know. Sit down and talk sometime.”

“I dunno. That sounds awfully mature. Are you sure we’re ready for that?”

Billy’s head snapped up but Teddy was teasing, his eyes lighting up in a way Billy had never seen before. Not seen, or maybe not noticed, too wrapped up in his own bubble to pay enough attention. His stomach flopped over for an entirely different reason this time. He smiled back. “I’m willing to give it a shot if you are.”

“How about Wednesday? I go to Midtown by Grand Central to pick up my pull list after school.”

“You read comics?” Billy’s convoluted, complicated tangle of feelings was slowly being drowned by the wave of utter delight. 

“Please. They’re practically mainstream now,” Teddy scoffed. Billy’s eyes met his and he couldn’t help but laugh at the bright smile he found there. He was a million pounds lighter, a tingle racing over his skin that felt a little bit like his lightning, and if he couldn’t still feel the tile beneath his feet, he wouldn’t have been surprised at all to find himself lifting off.

_I’ve been forgiven. This is what that feels like._

“Touché.”

Noise grew from inside the locker room and Teddy looked at the clock again. “I’ve gotta get back in there.”

Billy nodded, reluctant to take the first step away in case the fizzy feeling disappeared. “I’ll be cheering you on.” Unless- “If that’s okay?”

Teddy smiled at him, a pleased, little bit shy kind of smile. “… yeah. It’s okay. And, um. Nate’s got my number. Text me about Wednesday.” He pushed the locker room door open and vanished into the noise and the light.

Lingering for a moment, Billy ran through the last ten minutes in his mind. Mom had been right after all, and now—now he had a chance. Not for a complete do-over, but for a fresh start. And this time he’d do it right.


	2. Teddy

Teddy Altman had spent most of the last year of his life confused. Today hadn’t helped.

Billy’s sudden apology was welcome, of course. And Teddy’d actually spotted him in the crowd cheering like he’d said he would. But even that little unearned win just made things… stranger.

Like he was a rock in an avalanche of weird, sent tumbling down a mountain with no bottom in sight.

Take halftime for instance, and everything with Greg coming to a head. He hadn’t figured on it happening just then, or on Greg deciding to bring up Teddy’s defection in the middle of the most important game of their lives.

_We wouldn’t be losing if you weren’t so fucking distracted all the time,_ and _what the fuck is wrong with you lately_ … all the things that would have crumbled Teddy into a tiny ball of nothing less than a few months ago. When Greg had still been the center of his world.

Things that still hurt, but not as much as they could have.

He’d known it was coming eventually, had prepared all the things he was going to say, rehearsed the confrontation a million times — even wearing different faces so he was looking into Greg’s eyes in his own mirror when he practiced. And all of it had flown out of his brain when he saw Billy coming around that corner.

Because the basketball team was important, but _Nate’s_ team was something that could become great. It was his one opportunity to earn redemption for every stupid thing Greg had convinced him to do, and founding member Billy Kaplan had hated him on sight. Teddy was intimately familiar with being ignored and had gotten used to fake smiles and transactional friends. He hadn’t been prepared at _all_ for getting a constant stink-eye from a total stranger.

It wasn’t him, or something he’d done, he was sure of it. He hadn’t even had the time to say anything that first day. Billy’d taken one look at Teddy and something dark and wary had settled in.

He’d wondered at first, if Billy could see through shape-shifting and had realized that Teddy was lying to the world. Only that part had never come up.

Eventually he’d given up trying to make sense of it. It was just how the team was going to go: Eli was fun, Nate was scarily intense, and Billy hated his guts. 

Until today, when Greg had finally lost it… and Billy had come around. Was it some kind of scale-balancing from the universe? The light and dark sides of the Force cancelling each other out? (And in that case, which guy was which?) Coming out had been a hail-Mary play, Teddy grasping for something—anything—that would help them connect. The only thing other than their mutations that they seemed to have in common _._ It had felt safe enough to try.

Only now the way he’d glared at Teddy that first afternoon had some more context. He’d assumed from Teddy’s looks alone that Teddy was going to make him a target.

That hurt, he couldn’t deny it. Hurt a lot, and made him feel all unsteady. Half the point of looking the way he did was because it made people a lot nicer to him than they used to be.

It hadn’t worked with Billy.

Except now it did? What had changed?

Basically nothing made sense anymore except basketball. And cheeseburgers.

And speaking of which-

“You’re barely eating, Teddy. Are you feeling alright? The flu? Consumption? Should I call the plague doctor?” Teddy’s mother put her hand against his forehead in a slightly overdramatic gesture. He looked up guiltily from the swirls he was drawing with a fry in his ketchup, the busy diner snapping back into place around him.

She was grinning, though, teasing him, and he found the spark of life inside that let him grin back and shake off the funk that had been dogging him all evening.

“It’s one game,” his mom said, dropping the joke and squeezing his hand. “There are two left in the series, you’ve still got time to rally.”

“I know,” Teddy reassured her, and stuck the fry in his mouth. _See? Everything’s fine._ “There’ve just been a lot of ups and downs today.” _Ain’t that the truth._

“Something other than state finals?” she asked. Her voice was all innocent but her look was steady, like she was gazing into him and through him somehow. Like she knew more than she was letting on.

He wondered, a lot, just how _much_ his mother knew. About him, his powers, the ways he’d used them.

He’d tried to make the changes seem slow and steady, once he knew the shape he wanted to have, but even then… she hadn’t blinked, hadn’t even seemed to notice that he was growing faster than he should have, except to make jokes about how often she needed to take him shopping for longer pants.

Pants were expensive though, so he’d switched to wearing shorts a lot more often.

“Nah,” Teddy lied. “Just the game. Greg always freaks out when we lose and he was being a real jerk today. He’ll be over it by tomorrow.” And he shoved the remaining third of his burger in his mouth all at once, to prevent her from asking any more questions.

She watched him while he chewed. Then that deep, penetrating stare disappeared, turning back into her usual easy-breezy smile, and she changed the topic to movie trailers.

Crisis averted. At least for now.

* * *

Teddy honestly didn’t expect a text. Whatever brain-sucking alien that had possessed Billy at the game had probably long-since vacated, leaving their acquaintanceship back at level zero.

So when his phone buzzed against the side of his hand late Tuesday night, he grabbed it and flipped it over without thinking. Greg, maybe? Though he was still pissed about Sunday. Nate, setting the date for the next training session? Or Eli, wanting to know if he was free to hang out-

**Hi?** read the tentative-sounding text.

It was a New York number he didn’t recognize, which probably meant spam or scam. Teddy flipped his phone back over and slumped in his chair. It was way late, getting close to midnight, and he should be in bed instead of half-assedly working on a report that he still hadn’t turned in even after begging for two extensions. Sports excuses could only get him so much rope before he’d end up hanging himself.

His phone buzzed again.

**Is this Teddy? It’s Billy. Nate gave me this number.**

That was enough to pull Teddy away from the migratory habits of the whatever-the-hell curlew, and sit up in his chair.

Could texts sound nervous? Billy’s seemed to. All choppy, like when he’d almost bit Teddy’s head off for checking on him that one time. He’d just looked so… lost. And down on himself. And even though he’d known it would be a disaster, Teddy had wanted to help.

Except Billy was mercurial and wild, as unpredictable as his own lightning, and—Teddy suspected—just as capable of causing serious damage. He didn’t need saving. 

For a moment Teddy was tempted to open the texts and leave him on read for a while. Billy already disliked him, he might as well have done something to deserve it, right? On Sunday he’d told Billy that they were good, and he’d mostly meant it. But Billy’s confession still stung.

_I’m not like that. I’m not!_

Except for the times when he had been. When he’d been so desperate to impress Greg, to be noticed. There had been plenty of times when the guys made jokes at someone else’s expense, poked fun at classmates who weren’t part of the student council or sports cliques, and Teddy hadn’t spoken up. At least not loudly enough for it to matter.

Not-stopping something wasn’t as bad as actively doing it, but it sure as hell didn’t make him a good person.

Teddy chewed on his lower lip, staring at the screen. He had the chance to fix that now, didn’t he? Billy had been bullied, and Teddy had walked awfully close to both sides of that line. Maybe, if they could be friends, that could make up for some of the bad Teddy had already let escape into the world.

Teddy summoned up all the goodwill he’d been feeling on Sunday, and he texted back.

**Teddy: Hey, it’s me. Nate didn’t mess with you.**

**Billy: I was starting to wonder. :/**

**Teddy: What’s up?**

**Billy: About tomorrow. Did you still want to? Meet for comics.**

**Teddy: Not worried about being seen out with a big loser? haha**

**Billy: You were the bets player in that game.**

**Billy: Best***

**Billy: Want me to zap the other guys next time?**

**Teddy: Nah. Thanks, but I’d rather win fairly.**

And that, Teddy sighed ruefully, was probably all their differences summed up in two lines. Still, ‘morally grey protagonist’ was a TV Trope for a reason.

**Teddy: Meet me at the shop @ 4? We can get shakes or something after.**

**Billy: it’s a date**

**Billy: I mean its not a DATE-date**

**Billy: SDFGBSNsbd dammit**

**Billy: sorry**

**Teddy: g’night, Billy. See you tomorrow.**

He probably shouldn’t find the keysmash funny, but he could actually _see_ Billy’s frustrated face in his mind’s eye. At least he wasn’t pretend-cool like some people, who’d be just as happy to turn that mistake around and somehow blame Teddy for it. He wasn’t trying to save face anymore and that had to mean something. Right?

* * *

Greg still hadn’t gotten over it by Wednesday, giving Teddy the cold shoulder and the silent treatment all through school. What was worse, his attitude was bleeding over to some of the other guys; ones who had no idea why Teddy and Greg were having issues, but knew that they were safer staying on Greg’s side.

One fight, that was all it had taken. One time where he’d told Greg no. _No, I won’t be your patsy, no, I won’t help you steal from the Avengers. No, I won’t borrow someone else’s face just so that you have the chance to feel like a big man. I have better things to do._

He should’ve just gone along with it. It would have been easier than this feeling: alone again, discarded, unwanted and invisible.

He wasn’t invisible to Nate and Eli, so at least he had that. And now Billy-

What had changed Billy’s mind? He hadn’t exactly been specific. But something had to have made a difference in how he saw Teddy, what he _wanted_ from Teddy. No-one did a one-eighty like that just because they felt bad.

Maybe it was like Greg. He’d seen something in Teddy that he could use.

Now who was making cruel assumptions?

_Shake it off, Altman. Not everyone is out to take advantage._

The comic shop sat in the center of one of the most chaotic parts of midtown, one of the reasons Teddy loved it. The people-watching was second to none. Only now as he got closer, backpack over his shoulder and hands in his pockets, the crowd seemed to thin out around the door.

A woman with a briefcase moved out of the way and there Billy was, leaning against the wall, head down and focused on his phone. He smiled at something he saw there and Teddy paused for a minute to watch, reluctant to interrupt.

He looked different when he wasn’t scowling at Teddy, or in the middle of some self-induced freakout. Softer, maybe, but still just as vibrant and alive. More like the kind of guy Teddy wouldn’t mind getting to know.

And when the afternoon sunlight hit him, just so, adding a warm glow to his olive-gold skin, Teddy would definitely call him good-looking. _Cute_ , even.

_Yeah, and so were baby snakes, until they sank their fangs into you_. Billy didn’t have fangs, not that Teddy had seen, but he was sharp nevertheless. He crackled with a kind of fierce energy that screamed of danger, likely to lash out at anyone in range.

Teddy started walking again, trying to shake off the growing, snarling doubts. Billy looked up and Teddy lifted his hand in greeting, a wave that Billy echoed even as the smile on his face was replaced with something a little more cautious.

At least for the moment he was on Teddy’s side.

* * *

Comic shopping had been easy enough, nothing personal required to grab his pulls, laugh with Billy over some of the dumber covers out this week, and line up at the cash. And it did make things a little easier as they walked to Shake Shack, having something specific to talk about.

Teddy shouldn’t have been surprised at all by how much Billy knew, or how bright and quick he was. His surprise was more at how easily Billy was talking to him now, like he’d completely forgotten everything that had happened between them before. And it was easy to talk back, though Teddy kept pausing to pick and choose what he said. There was too much that was still private, things that were too raw, stuff he’d rather not get out. Things he didn’t trust Billy enough to explain.

Maybe, someday. Unless Billy’s opinion of him changed again.

The conversation was drifting closer to some of those subjects now, as they lingered over milkshakes across one of the rickety tables in the breezy courtyard. The strawberry ice cream in Teddy’s shake slipped cool across his tongue, the late afternoon sun shining between the leaves of the tree above them.

“Why basketball?” Billy was asking, and that was a much safer question than a lot of others he could have asked.

Teddy thought for a minute, considering his words. “Because it’s simple,” he decided aloud. “It’s something I can do and get out of my own head. There are rules and positions to stick to, but inside of those there are a thousand different ways a game can go. And it’s still a hundred times less complicated than life.” Teddy felt himself rambling, but Billy didn’t interrupt to save him from himself.

He listened instead, elbows on the table and his chin on his hands, his glass mostly empty in front of him. That softer look on his face hadn’t gone away yet and he was intent on Teddy, as though he really cared about the answer to his question.

“And there aren’t a lot of other sports I can do without outing myself. Wrestling or weights I’d either have to cheat or come out as a mutant, and you don’t get enough play time with baseball to make it interesting.”

“What about hockey?” Billy asked, stirring his straw around in his glass.

“The gear’s too expensive,” Teddy had to admit, embarrassment colouring his pause. Billy never seemed to worry about money. His clothes were new and brand-name, and from what little he’d said about home, he lived in a ritzy area of town. Would Billy look down on him for it? “Mom and I went skating once or twice a year when I was little, but I never got really good at it.”

“Maybe this winter we can all go,” Billy suggested, throwing Teddy for another loop. “I bet Nate’s never been skating; it could be fun. At least for the first half hour before our feet freeze off,” he amended, his grin sheepish. “I’ve never been super-into winter sports. My parents took us downhill skiing a few times but I mostly just fell over.”

Teddy couldn’t help grinning at that image, a younger Billy in one of those massive snow suits, picking himself out of a snowdrift. “How many is ‘us’?” he asked; his turn to direct the questions. He knew a little more now, maybe more than Billy had intended to let him see, but every little piece was a new tiny window into what this guy was like.

“I’ve got two little brothers,” Billy replied, one side of his lip lifting in what Teddy supposed was disdain. Billy’s lips were otherwise- Billy’s lips, and he _wasn’t_ watching them that closely.

“Not a fan?” Teddy asked, to distract himself from a train of thought that could rapidly become extremely awkward.

“They’re alright,” Billy shrugged. “For little kids. What about you? You’ve only mentioned your mom. What’s your dad like?”

Oof. Teddy shrugged one shoulder. “It’s only ever been my mom and me. I never met him.”

Billy looked stricken, his cheeks pinking up. “I’m sorry, I didn’t- your dad left?”

“He died. In a car accident before I was born.”

Or so mom had always said, but sometimes he wondered. There weren’t any pictures, for one; barely any documents proving his dad had ever existed. She said it hurt to talk about him, so Teddy didn’t ask anymore. But how could an entire life vanish, just like that, with so little of him left behind to be remembered?

For a while he’d figured he’d been the accidental result of a one-night stand, or a boyfriend who’d run when she got pregnant. Or maybe she’d gone to a sperm donor and was embarrassed about it. But she never talked about dating, and she’d only just turned forty a couple of years ago. What sperm bank would hook up a single twenty-four-year-old?

The only answer that he was left with was that something a lot worse had happened to her. Something really, _really_ awful, and Teddy had been the result.

Believing the car-crash story was a lot less painful.

“I’m sorry,” Billy said again, fumbling for words. Teddy rescued him, this time.

“It’s okay,” Teddy promised. “I never knew him, so it’s not like there’s anything there to miss.” The rest of it was private stuff, things he never talked about to _anyone_ , so a subject change was definitely in order. “Do your parents know?” _About your powers_ was implied; _about the team, about you, about any of this?_

“No.” Billy shook his head vehemently. He slumped further on the table, getting closer, his voice quieter. Teddy leaned in some more to hear him, the busy square not exactly the best place to talk without being overheard. “I can’t tell them yet, they wouldn’t understand. They’d get pissed at me for being reckless and then I’d get shipped off somewhere like the Jean Grey School and never see anyone here again.”

And that would be awful. The feeling came in a strange moment of clarity. The thought of Billy simply disappearing in the night, even if it was to someplace where mutant powers were a _good_ thing, unsettled him more than he cared to think about.

“Altman!” The cheerful hail came from halfway across the square, and the little bubble of pretend privacy popped away. “And Kaplan?” Teddy sat bolt upright and Billy jerked back in his chair, whipping his head around.

It took Teddy a half-beat to associate the name with the face. Taylor Cortez, last year’s All-City All-Stars team. Teddy’d just been growing himself into his full height and had been a bench-warming sophomore fourth-stringer, Taylor at a year older one of the rising stars.

“Taylor! Hey, man.” It was easy to sink back into the persona that Taylor knew, the easy-going bravado of the locker room. Teddy offered his fist and Taylor bumped it, nodding at Billy, who hesitated before nodding back. Teddy watched the look passing between them, not a super-comfortable thing. “You two know each other?”

“Track team,” Billy replied, his smile uneasy, his eyes flickering from Teddy to Taylor. “We’re at the same school. How do you guys know each other?”

“Basketball,” Taylor answered, tucking his hands in the pockets of his letter jacket. His brown eyes were focused on Teddy, wheels turning somewhere in the back there. “I didn’t know you knew this guy.”

Teddy quickly ran the mental calculus. Taylor hadn’t seemed like the bullying kind, but then again, Teddy apparently had no idea of the kinds of things that had gone on behind the scenes at Billy’s school. What would make the least amount of trouble for Billy when he went in tomorrow?

“Yeah,” Teddy nodded, flashing Billy a quick smile. _Play along?_ “We met this summer at a friend’s place.” It wasn’t untrue, except for the part where he couldn’t exactly consider Avengers’ Mansion to be a ‘friend’s place.’ Close enough.

Taylor didn’t seem to care much about the details, nodding along. “Cool. Teddy, you going to the Mountain Mayhem clinic end of the month? My coach said recruiters from NYU were going to be there.”

“Recruiters for what? That sounds like something from American Gladiators,” Billy cracked, folding his arms across his chest and leaning back in his chair, distancing himself from the conversation.

Teddy ignored the defensive posturing and shook his head. “Not this year—gotta see how things play out at state finals. I’m still a junior anyway, so I’m not going to stress about recruiters until spring at least,” he added with a flash of a grin.

“Fair,” Taylor replied. “Good luck with State.”

Teddy nodded. “Thanks, man. Good luck with NYU. I hope you get a good offer.”

“They’d be idiots not to, right?” Taylor laughed, his grin wry. “I’ll catch you around. Kaplan,” he added, making Billy’s presence into an afterthought. “Later.” And with one more measuring look at the pair of them, he headed off in the other direction.

Billy watched him go, silence settling awkwardly over the table until Taylor and his letter jacket were out of earshot. One of Billy’s eyebrows flicked up and then fell again as he slowly relaxed again. “… it’s easy for you, isn’t it?” he asked out of the blue, a train of thought Teddy couldn’t immediately follow.

“What’s easy? Sports clinics?”

“Making friends.”

He was worrying at the side of his thumbnail, retreating back inside his own head in a way he hadn’t done most of the afternoon. Teddy felt the pull to tease him back out, get the warm smile back and directed at him again. “He’s not a _friend,_ exactly. We played together for three months with, like, fifteen other guys. You’ve known him a lot longer, if you’re on your school’s track team together.”

Billy shrugged, the stiffness not fading. “Yeah, but it’s not like we have anything to talk about other than how many wind sprints Mr. Stulac tries to get us to do before someone dies.”

“He’s a nice enough guy,” Teddy offered. “You could just say hi. Unless you’re going to tell me he’s one of the creeps who’s been bugging you, in which case I present that as evidence of my awful skills at judging character.”

That got a faint smile out of Billy and a gradual thaw. “He’s not. Though I’m hoping your whole ‘awful judge of character’ thing isn’t about this.” He gestured vaguely at the table. “I was thinking things were going pretty well, this time. At least I’m mostly sure I haven’t said anything too awful.”

“The American Gladiator joke was seriously dated. You definitely lost a few cool points there,” Teddy informed him solemnly, cracking a smile once Billy’s head jerked up and their eyes met.

“I hate to inform you, but I have never in my life been considered ‘cool.’” Billy laughed, an edge still in his voice.

“That’ll change,” Teddy replied, infusing the thought with as much confidence as he could. The bare idea still made him tingle, the potential still there under the surface, just waiting for them to be able to unlock it all. “Wait until the city gets a load of the next Avengers.”

Billy’s laugh was real that time and Teddy was able to relax into the sound, a warm and vibrant thing that didn’t have much in common with the dry jabs and pokes he was more used to hearing from him. “You sure about that?” Billy asked, and there was something in the deep brown of his eyes when he held Teddy’s gaze that made Teddy’s chest tighten.

“I’m sure.”


	3. Billyteddy?

Hanging out with Teddy had been equally amazing and terrible. Amazing in that Billy had finally been able to let go of so much of the baggage he’d been dragging around behind him. Teddy _wasn’t_ anything like what Billy had originally imagined. It turned out that he was funny _and_ sweet, knew a shit-ton more about comics than Billy’d ever expected, and had held the door open for, like, four little old ladies in succession,

The terrible part was realizing that his attraction—alright fine, yes, his stupid crush—wasn’t going to go away any time soon.

The important thing now was not to make it weird. Knowing Teddy was gay didn’t make it okay to hit on him, especially since they’d only just started actually talking. Billy’d done enough damage with his stupid jealousy already.

One friendship, hold the awkward. That would be the key to the team finally clicking as well. Now that he and Teddy were talking (now that he was talking to Teddy, he corrected himself, because Teddy had been trying all along), it would all fall into place.

Billy closed his locker with a firm click that he hoped sounded convincing.

They’d be superheroes. Teddy had been so convincing, his optimism a shining beacon that Billy could pin some serious hopes on. Maybe they wouldn’t be Avengers, not as such, but they could be a new thing all their own. They could-

“Kaplan!”

Broken out of his thoughts Billy spun around, shoulders tensing- but it wasn’t Kesler or any of his goon squad, not this time. Taylor stopped beside Billy’s locker, backpack looped over his shoulder. He didn’t look angry or like he was about to take a shot at Billy, and Billy forced his shoulders to unknot.

“Cortez,” he returned the greeting a little more cautiously than it had been delivered. “What’s up?”

“Nothin’ much,” he replied with an easy smile, a guy who was a hundred percent comfortable in his own skin. “I wanted to ask. How long have you and Altman been… hanging out?” There was a funny pause there that Billy didn’t parse, preoccupied with images of superhero costumes and the anxiety burst that always came along with talking to the popular kids.

“A few months,” Billy answered incautiously, tucking his books under his arm. Did Taylor know something about their powers? He and Teddy were friends—had Teddy told him something about the team, made the explanation for why he was bumming around with Billy? “He’s a great guy.”

It was weird to hear himself say that, but it seemed to be true.

“He is,” Taylor nodded, as though satisfied about something. “And if he likes you, then there’s gotta be more to you than I originally thought.”

… Great. Was his reputation really so bad that only Teddy’s apparent approval was enough to make people think he was less awful? “Thanks,” Billy replied dryly. “I think.”

“No offense meant, man.” Taylor chuckled, smacking Billy on the shoulder in that manly-back-pat way usually reserved for other guys in his crowd. How did Billy rate _that_ all of a sudden? “Anyway, I’m happy for you guys. See you at practice.”

Gobsmacked, Billy took a second to find his voice.

The bell rang while he was in vapour-lock. “Happy for- what??” Taylor loped off without hearing him, a new pin on his backpack catching Billy’s eye.

Rainbow stripes, _ALLY_.

_Oh no. Oh no no no no-_

What were the chances that Taylor hadn’t spread it everywhere, in some weird bid to be supportive?

The halls filled up as people ran from one class to the next. Was Billy imagining it, or were more eyes on him than usual? A group of girls in Taylor’s class stared at him and giggled when he looked their way, everyone seeming to follow his movements with knowing smiles.

Not good, apparently. A whole stinking pile of _not good_.

* * *

**Teddy:** Has school been weird for you today?

**Billy:** …

**Billy:** weird how?

**Teddy:** People keep looking at me funny. Like they know something I don’t.

**Billy:** I think I might know. But you have to promise not to be mad.

* * *

Outed. Teddy had been outed. Not as a mutant, like Greg had threatened, but outed nevertheless. And linked to a guy who, until less than a week ago, wouldn’t have given Teddy the time of day.

_Dating Billy._ Not likely. Sure, he was exactly the right kind of attractive when he smiled, but they’d barely gotten past a constant state of war. Dating the guy was completely out of the question.

Not that anyone seemed to believe that. Billy’s halting and apologetic explanation had sent Teddy online, looking at all of Taylor’s social media, things he’d never bothered checking. And there it was, buried a couple of conversations deep but there nevertheless—a status update with a phone pic of Billy and Teddy at the Shake Shack, leaning close and talking. From that angle it almost looked like they were staring dreamily into each other’s eyes.

It didn’t matter that Taylor had posted it with a supportive message about pride and acceptance and all that crap. A lot of the comments weren’t nearly so flattering.

And there had been a _lot_ of comments.

No form of protest would be enough to convince anyone that he wasn’t dating Billy, and he couldn’t even insist that he wasn’t gay. That is, Teddy _could_ lie. Could put himself so firmly back in the closet that he’d be living in Narnia. But what would that win him, in the end? More reasons for Billy to mistrust him. More reasons to hate himself and the pack of lies he was telling the world.

Greg had cornered him again on the way to practice, putting on the wounded act like Teddy had been the one to bring everything crashing down. It had been a lot of ‘so _that’s_ why you abandoned us’ and ‘too busy with your boyfriend to remember your old friends.’ After a while Teddy had only pretended to be listening and started waiting for the words to just… stop.

Eventually Greg had run out of things to be disappointed in him for and Teddy had gone to practice, ignored the whispers and the mutters and the way guys moved away from him in the dressing room.

Like he had cooties now, like ‘gay’ was catching. Or like he’d suddenly start grabbing them when he’d never even snuck peeks before. Not like that.

Now, sitting at the kitchen table, the old chair creaky when he moved, Teddy buried his head in his hands. The mixing bowl and the last few soggy pieces of his after-school taco bowl sat at his elbow, food he’d barely even tasted while he was lost in his own head.

What the hell was he supposed to do now?

The chair next to his creaked as his mother sat down next to him. She ruffled his hair, the way she’d always done when he was sad as a kid, and he sat up.

“What’s the problem, kiddo?” she asked, and he didn’t have the right words. He didn’t have words at all.

_Everything’s gone wrong and I don’t know how to fix it._

_Everyone at school thinks I’m gay and dating a guy who hated me until last week._

_I_ am _gay, and I don’t know how to tell you._

_My life is a mess, I don’t know who I am or what I want, and you won’t answer any of the questions that might help._

_All I wanted was to belong somewhere and now I don’t have anywhere._

“Yeah, just fine,” Teddy replied with a grin that he almost had to shape-shift to force onto his face. “Coach really worked us hard today, that’s all.”

She studied his face, and he was half-sure she wasn’t buying it. Any second now she’d call him out for lying, for hiding things from her.

But she’d spent her whole life hiding things from him, so maybe he was allowed to do the same.

“You’re sure everything’s alright?” she asked again, reaching out to brush his hair away from his forehead.

The touch was too much, too intimate, leaving him feeling way too exposed. Teddy pushed back his chair, the feet scraping against the linoleum of the kitchen floor. “One hundred percent. I’m going to go take a shower—I probably smell like a gym bag right now. Any chance we could have pizza for dinner?”

She nodded, looking up at him with a sad, distant smile. “I think we can manage that,” was all she said in reply.

Not trusting himself to say anything more, Teddy walked quickly down the hall and shut his bedroom door behind him.

His phone blinked with a text, and he didn’t even bother to look to see the sender. If it was Billy, then Teddy didn’t want to talk. Which made him feel worse, because none of it was Billy’s fault. Billy couldn’t help it that thinking about him made Teddy feel so much worse.

If it was Nate, Teddy didn’t know yet what he was going to say. If it was anyone else, then Teddy _definitely_ had no interest. Not right now.

What mattered most right now was seeing his team through the last games of the season. The guys might think he was awful now, making ‘fag’ jokes under their breath and cold-shouldering him when coach wasn’t looking, but the team was still a place where he meant something. Basketball was simple.

And it didn’t involve Billy Kaplan in any way.

* * *

**Billy:** you missed practice – everything okay?

**Teddy:** I go to a Christian school, B. things aren’t ok.

**Teddy:** gonna keep my head down for a while, focus on other stuff. School. State. Tell Nate sorry for me.

**Billy:** you’re quitting??

**Teddy:** dunno yet. Maybe I’ll see you guys after finals.

He didn’t read the rest of the texts Billy sent.

* * *

**Eli:** What the hell did you do?

**Billy:** NOTHING! This wasn’t my fault!

Was it?

* * *

Less than a week. It had taken less than a _week_ for Billy’s big attempt to fix everything to end in total disaster. From grand gesture at the basketball game to total social media humiliation in less time than God had needed to make the world.

It was probably some new kind of record.

Now Teddy had all but vanished off the face of the earth, Eli was blowing up at _Billy_ for scaring him away, and the student bodies at both their schools were convinced that Billy and Teddy were an item despite all their protests to the contrary. It was deeply unfair. Trying to fix things had landed him in a far worse spot than leaving everything alone would have done.

The old-feet smell of the track around the gym permeated everything, the funk of a thousand sweaty teenagers dropping his already-bad mood into something thoroughly abyssal. So when Taylor approached Billy while the track team was stretching, Billy was in no mood to be nice. He came over with that stupid grin on his face, apparently totally oblivious to the fact that he’d been the architect of destruction for everything Billy’d held dear. Billy tried to ignore him, focusing on holding the deep lunge instead, but Taylor refused to take the hint. “Hey Kaplan! How’s Altman?”

Was he actually oblivious, or trying to rub it in? Billy stood and shook out from the stretch, aware that the glare he shot at Taylor was poisonous. “I wouldn’t know.”

And he had the gall to look confused. “What?”

It should have made Billy feel bad — it _did_ make him feel bad, just not bad enough to care about biting his tongue. “We aren’t dating, Cortez. We were never dating. What even made you think he was gay?” Maybe Teddy had come out to the guy at some point, but his texts sure made it sound like it was a huge secret. Which meant that Billy’s stupid ideas about hanging out had been responsible for painting a target on Teddy’s back.

It was a lot easier to blame Taylor. Who jerked back at the accusations, a bunch of different things flashing across his face until he settled on shocked and guilty, holding up his hands in a plea for peace. “Dude, I’m sorry. How was I supposed to know?”

Billy rounded on him, a couple of their nearby teammates falling quiet and watching the drama. “What? That because I was having a burger with a friend we were automatically a couple? Gay guys aren’t allowed to have male friends?” A whole lot more of the background chatter faded away, most of the team no doubt listening in now. Fuck them all.

“That’s not-”

“It doesn’t matter anyway. Thanks to you, he’s not talking to me.” And there it was, the feeling of total defeat that even track couldn’t help him run away from.

Taylor backed away a step, the stricken look on his face almost enough to make Billy feel like apologizing for snapping. Teddy would probably backtrack and say he was sorry. Billy wasn’t that good of a person.

“I didn’t mean for that to happen,” Taylor said, an apology in his voice.

Billy drew in a steadying breath and tried to find his center, find the kindness that Teddy would have shown him instead of the bright flare of anger that ate Billy from the inside-out. “Yeah, I know. Just stay out of my life, alright?”

He walked off, the quiet behind him erupting into a buzz of conversation before he was entirely out of earshot. Fine, gossip it up. Maybe then word would start to go around that Teddy wasn’t Billy’s boyfriend. That he was straight. That Taylor had made it all up.

Teddy would have better taste than that, anyway.

Everyone stayed away from him that practice, leaving him to stew in his feelings uninterrupted. Even their coach seemed to be yelling at him less than usual, which didn’t help as much as Billy might have hoped. The running felt good though, and Teddy’s voice echoed in his memory. _Something simple. To get out of my own head._

He’d enjoy being less in his own head right now. So when Billy was called up for the next set of sprints, Taylor two lanes over, Billy did his best to clear his mind. Be in the moment. Feel that set of a thousand uncomplicated possibilities. He set his foot against the block, strong and secure. Fingertips to the floor, the rough grit prickled against his skin.

Go.

He let himself feel it this time instead of overthinking, tried to find the space inside. It was full of wanting, of yearning that he couldn’t name, and it washed over him. _I want to be better. I want to be stronger. Faster. More. I want, I want, I want-_

A tingle started in the base of his spine, a push that seemed to come from inside and outside him all at once. His feet gripped the track, steps eating up the ground. The new wind at his back pushed him, the heat in his gut pulled him forward, until the line was there in front of him and he crossed it before anyone else. He slowed, turned, saw the next guy still three steps behind. The power feeling vanished all at once, leaving a warmth that felt like… like right after he used his lightning. Like he’d brushed against something bigger and stronger than him and come away better for it.

No-one else seemed to notice, just Mr. Stulac congratulating him on his best time yet, and Taylor turning away without meeting his eyes.

It felt _good_. Good, but strange and _off_ somehow, and as the feeling bled away it left him hollow.

He wanted to call Nate, or even Eli… sit down with Teddy and give him the facts, talk everything over with them and watch their amazing minds at work.

Something new was happening. But there was no-one to share it with.

* * *

The cold shoulders in the locker room weren’t the end of it. The classrooms, the hallways, the library during free period — Teddy was a pariah. Not invisible this time, not like before when he’d been skinny, small and a nobody. Now he was a hot topic everywhere, followed by looks and by giggles, the whispers starting up behind him when he left a room.

Teddy hunched over his math homework at the uncomfortable desk, one eye on the clock on the wall. Five-minute countdown until study hall was over. A couple of the girls were whispering behind him, and he didn’t need to pick out specific words to know the kinds of things they would be saying.

He wanted to shrink, to collapse in on himself and be small again, invisible again. Go back in time two years. To the time before he’d crushed on Greg so hard it had physically hurt, before he’d changed everything about himself in order to be what he was supposed to be. It had been safer there.

Lonelier, too. So lonely that every cell in his body had been screaming into the void, desperate for someone, anyone, to see him and prove that he was real.

It was all far too real now.

The whispers rose and fell behind him, seeming to get louder the more he shied away. With a minute left to go before the bell, Teddy shoved his books into his backpack and pushed away from the desk. He got a disinterested look from the teaching assistant at the front of the room, the bell ending the class before Teddy could get a reprimand.

He was so tired, a soul-deep exhaustion clawing at him. The kind of tired that, ironically enough, made it impossible to sleep. He was done with being him. Maybe he could stop. Just… leave this shape behind and disappear. Try another body, another _life_ , on for size and start again someplace new. If it didn’t mean leaving his mother to be alone and scared, if he had some way of supporting himself or figuring out how to get fake ID without Greg’s connections…

He didn’t, though, and couldn’t. He was stuck with this version of himself until college. Maybe then he could start clean, find out who he was when he wasn’t spending all his time trying to be what people expected.

Unless that _was_ all that he was, an empty shell made in everyone else’s image.

Teddy caught sight of his own reflection in the glass of the trophy display case that lined the first floor hallway. Shoulders rounded, head down — if he wasn’t holding on to his tweaked better-face he’d have bags under his eyes as well. He looked defeated.

What would Billy do in this situation? He’d rise above. He’d carry his head high and say ‘fuck it’ to everyone and everything that got in his way. 

Teddy was beginning to understand a lot more about the origins of Billy’s defensiveness.

Watching himself in the glass, Teddy slowly straightened his back until he looked more like himself again. He raised his chin and looked his faint reflection in the eye. Better. He wasn’t fierce, not like Billy had been at the game. Teddy pulled up the memory — Billy’s hands clenched to fists, his whole body in motion, all his focus directed at Greg even before he’d understood what was going on. He’d seen that Teddy was in trouble and leapt into action without second-guessing himself, without doubts.

_I wish I had his strength._

He didn’t, but maybe he could fake it for a while. Teddy was pretty good at faking things.

His reflection moved, another one, a different one, entering from the left. Teddy looked at Greg’s image in the glass, still a little taller than him, dark hair where Teddy was blond, the natural leader Teddy had once followed so blindly. He turned.

Greg stood there, hands casually resting in his jacket pockets.

“Here to add to the pile-on?” Teddy found himself asking, Billy’s sass light on his lips.

Greg shook his head, his expression weighing-and-measuring rather than cruel — or kind. “Nope. If I wanted to hurt you, I’d tell people about your real secret. The gay shit, that’ll fade once there’s a pre-prom breakup or someone’s nudes get sent around. Being a mutant freak… that’d stick a lot longer.”

There was no-one else nearby, thankfully, no-one in earshot. Teddy flinched anyway, hating himself for giving Greg the satisfaction of the reaction. “That’s what it’s down to, then? So much for being friends, or all the crap I did, because I wanted-”

“Because you wanted to bone me?” Greg snorted knowingly and Teddy’s stomach turned over. “That sure as hell doesn’t make you a saint. I’m not the bad guy here, Ted-o. I came over to say that I told the guys to drop it. We’ve got one game left and I don’t need them fucking with your head so much that you make us lose.”

“That’s it? That’s all you wanted to say?” Teddy almost laughed, the sheer _pettiness_ of the whole thing hitting him all at once. Everything sucked, his whole world had fallen to pieces, Greg had just threatened — kind of, sideways, while pretending the opposite — to destroy what little Teddy had left, and he was making a big deal about a single basketball game?

A few minutes ago, though, everything had been a big deal to Teddy too. Something was shifting, changing underneath him, and looking into Greg’s eyes brought it crashing home.

Even when Billy had been wary of him, or furious with him, he’d never looked at Teddy with that cool, dispassionate gaze. Like Teddy was a malfunctioning tool; a part of a machine that needed to be oiled to function, and when broken, replaced.

Why was he putting up with it, when it didn’t have to be that way?

A year left at this stupid school, and then Teddy would be gone. It was a long time, sure, but the rest of his life was longer. And if he reached out, maybe — just maybe — he’d still have friends outside of school who would have his back again.

“I don’t need your help,” Teddy said finally. It was built on a lot more hope than confidence but sounded really good in the moment. “I’m going to play and we’re going to win, but not because of anything you did. I’d have made it on the team without you. And I’ll be a lot closer to the person I want to be, without you.”

“What’s that, a hopeless loser?” Greg scoffed. “We had a good thing going for a while there, Teddy. It’s too bad you went chicken.”

“I didn’t go chicken. You got greedy. And I got out.”

Greg didn’t stop him when he walked away or yell out something mean at Teddy’s retreating back. That was fine. Teddy wasn’t entirely sure what he’d have done if Greg had, or what he’d do later once the rush of disobedience wore off.

Or what his options would be if it turned out that he’d burned all his bridges now, instead of all-but-one. Considering how abruptly he’d abandoned the team, it was probably already too late.

* * *

Billy lay on his bed and stared at the uneven swirls in the white paint on his ceiling. His small reading lamp cast everything around the twin bed in sharp shadows, only the details inside the circle of light visible. His phone lay face down on his chest, the clock on his nightstand blinking red numbers into the darkness. 1:44. 1:45. It was past the witching hour, but his brain just wouldn't lie still.

He had to do something. If he hadn't been such an ass to Teddy at the start, they never would have needed the apology date (it wasn't a date), and everything would be alright.

Maybe, in this strange alternate universe where Billy wasn't an impulsive, judgmental jackass, things might have turned out better than alright.

He didn't dare let himself dwell on that thought for more than a second.

Speaking of impulsive—Billy flipped his phone over and stared at Teddy's last texts, Billy's heart twisting in and around itself in painful tangles. _Things aren’t ok._ A few days had passed with no follow-up, and his fervid imagination was busy brewing up images of the worst.

Billy started his reply a half-dozen times, deleting each false start faster than the last. What could he say? Teddy had asked to be left alone, but had he really meant _alone_ -alone, or just reduced contact? And if he had actually meant no contact at all, then how did he plan to find out when their meetings were going to be so he could come back?

So really, someone had to be responsible for staying in touch. It was the helpful thing to do. Except that didn’t help him figure out what to say. What were the magic words that would make Teddy happy again? The ones that would erase all of the bad and let them start over, fresh?

_If it's from the heart, things will work out._

Mom had been right the first time. Maybe it would work again.

**Billy:** I know you probably don't want to hear from me but I can't stop thinking about how badly this all went. And how much of that was my fault.

**Billy:** I am so sorry, you have no idea

**Billy:** are you still thinking about coming back to the team after state is over? Eli is getting crankier by the day without someone he can hit. If he and Nate don’t stop fighting over everything *I* might quit.

**Billy:** We need you. The team needs you. More than that, we miss you.

**Billy:** This is going to sound stupid, but *I* miss you.

He was going to regret all of it in the morning, look at his sleep-deprived ramblings and wish desperately for an undo button on real life. But in the moment, pouring his heart out into those messages, he couldn't bring himself to stop.

**Billy:** We had less than a day where we were actually talking, and now it's all gone to hell again. It feels like we were on the verge of figuring things out, for real this time, and maybe that would be enough to make us a real team. I want to know for sure.

**Billy:** I know we’re not friends yet but I was hoping we were going to be. You’re the kind of person I want to learn how to be.

**Billy:** Please come back.

~~and even if you can't, I'd settle for texting, just to know you're out there and doing okay again.~~

He caught himself before he got too unbelievably pathetic and deleted the last line before he sent it, then shoved his phone under his pillow before he could send another wave of desperation out into the void.

He didn’t sleep much that night, if he slept at all, though morning eventually, inevitably, came. Waking up, Billy blinked blearily into the sunlight oozing around the edges of his window blind. His head ached, eyes feeling somehow both swollen and sunken in. What had he been doing up so late, anyway? He’d spent ages ruminating, and then gone on a texting spree-

Billy fumbled under his pillow in a panic, his phone dancing out of his grip a couple of times before he grabbed it just as it started to slide over the edge of the bed.

A reply popped up on his screen as he swiped the phone open.

_‘Don’t you-‘_ said the preview popup. What was the rest? ‘Don’t you dare contact me again’? ‘Don’t you dare try and convince me that you meant well’?

His heart in his throat, Billy tapped in his password. The program opened to texts, the way he’d left it so early that morning.

**Teddy:** Don’t you think you’re being a _little_ dramatic?

The next reply was timestamped nine minutes after the first one.

**Teddy:** but tbh, I miss you guys too.

Shaking with relief, Billy danced his thumbs across the screen as he typed out his reply.

**Billy:** It’s like you don’t know me at all

**Billy:** Melodrama is kind of my thing.

**Billy:** We’re meeting at 4 today, usual place. Monday too.

He didn’t have time for anything more, his mother’s knock catapulting him out of bed. He shoved the phone in his sock drawer — who had been up all night texting? Not him, no sir — and started getting ready to face the day. Despite his serious lack of shut-eye, things were already shaping up to be awesome.

* * *

Teddy saw Billy’s reply on his way to before-school practice. A smile rose inside him, obliterating the last remnants of his frustration and… it hadn’t been anger, exactly. Something more sour than that, less acid. Either way, it was fading away under the onslaught of Billy’s overly-passionate texts. How could anyone not get at least a little bit bowled over by being wooed like that?

Okay, not _wooing_ as such. But wanted. Teddy was _wanted_ , even if it was still for what he could do rather than who he was, and-

And that was a bad mental road to go down. Billy had said it plainly (even though the way he’d done it was seriously over the top). He wanted to be Teddy’s friend because he thought Teddy was a good person.

Teddy would have to tell him the truth someday, probably. And then that would be a whole different set of problems. _I used my powers to get a lot of things I never earned. I use them all the time now to make myself look better than I should. I’m not the good guy you think I am. You were right the first time._

But in the moment he was able to push away the thoughts and just enjoy the feeling.

It lasted as long as it took to get to practice, the insanity and the pressure building the second Teddy stepped into the locker room. Only one more day until the weekend road trip and everything that rested on the last games of the year. He put his phone away and tried to get into the right headspace, his half-formed replies entirely forgotten. 

* * *

He didn’t go to meet Billy and the guys that afternoon, his mind on basketball and homework, road trips and game days. It was only Sunday, on the bus home from the away game, that Teddy made up his mind.

Not because they’d lost in the last five minutes. He’d played his best game ever in the time he’d been on the court. Maybe if he’d used his powers to cheat — thrown the ball a little harder than he should, or further; shifted just enough to not be where the opposing defender had expected him to be — maybe then they’d have been able to grab those few extra points. But the other guys had just been that much better. Losing sucked, of course it did. But the grumbling all around was quieter than it might have been if they’d made some obvious errors.

He could keep playing with a clear conscience, if he wanted to.

But it wouldn’t be the same. For a while, on Greg’s sufferance, he’d belonged. He didn’t belong anymore, the empty seat beside him on the bus testament to his expulsion. How could friendship be real when it vanished so fast?

It couldn’t. But Billy, Nate, Eli — they’d offered him a taste of something more. And if Billy’s texts were true, then he hadn’t blown his chances there at all.

He suffered through Monday at school, watching the clock with growing desperation and longing. If they’d won finals maybe that would have been enough to make a change in how people treated him, but now he’d never find out.

The bell rang and Teddy bailed out, jumping down the front steps of the school building and exulting in the smack of his shoes against the sidewalk as he jogged for the bus. Doubts crept in during the trip out, because of course they did. By the time he got there, walking up from the train station to the old ball field Eli had found for their training sessions, he’d managed to convince himself that Billy was wrong. That they wouldn’t want him back, didn’t need him after all.

Eli was strong, Nate was smart, Billy was fierce. What did Teddy bring to the table?

… except that wasn’t actually fair to Eli, who was definitely smart enough to hold his own against Nate in tech discussions, even though Nate had, like, a thousand years of extra advances to draw on. If there was room on a team for two science guys, maybe there was also room on the team for two strong guys.

Sunk deep into his feelings, Teddy trudged along the broken sidewalk, avoiding the cracks purely out of instinct and long-held habit. He saw the guys before he heard them, grouped at the far side of the field. He stopped at the break in the wide-set wooden slats of the fence and watched for a minute.

Billy was talking, gesturing with his hands in the air while Nate tinkered with one of his projection gizmos and Eli watched with folded arms. Something had changed since the last time Teddy’d been there, though he couldn’t put his finger on what specifically. Nate looked the same as he ever did, dark and intense. Eli grinned, which was newer, but he’d smiled and laughed for Teddy before.

Billy held himself taller now, and he stood in the center of the conversation instead of off to one side. Teddy felt his eyes coming back to Billy again, searching for something he wasn’t sure he’d find. _Please come back._ What was going on in his head? Did he mean everything he’d said, or was there some other motive behind it?

Greg had used Teddy and then thrown him aside when he wasn’t a helpful tool anymore. That couldn’t be what was happening here. At least, he really wanted to believe that.

He’d survived rejection once; he could survive it again. This time… something in his gut was saying that this time was going to be worth the risk.

The wind picked up, biting through his jacket, and Teddy forced his legs to move. He was running in mental circles, standing there and watching like a creeper, and sooner or later one of them was going to notice. Better to get it over with one way or the other, right?

Sure.

Billy was the first one to see him, his gaze meeting Teddy’s across the baseball diamond. Realistically he was too far away for Teddy to actually see any details, but something sparked in the air and it _felt_ like he could see the smile starting on Billy’s face. Billy’s whole body drew up taut, his hands stilling, and Nate and Eli turned to see what had caught his attention. Teddy gave a little wave, still so unsure-

Despite everything, still so scared.

“About time, jerk,” Eli called over, his grin spreading as he headed to meet Teddy halfway. “I thought we were going to have to stage an intervention to get your ass back here.” A fistbump fixed the rest of Teddy’s attack of nerves, the lump in his throat shrinking into nothing. 

“No intervention necessary,” Teddy promised. He looked up and over Eli’s shoulder, catching and holding Billy’s gaze. Closer now, he could see the warm honey-brown of Billy’s eyes, hopeful now instead of hateful, lighting up instead of shutting down. That was better, so much better. If it had only been like this all along. “I’m back. Assuming you haven’t found a replacement in the meantime.”

Billy shook his head vehemently, not breaking eye contact. “Not a chance. It’s- It’s good to see you.”

In his peripheral vision, Teddy was vaguely aware of Eli looking back as well, followed by a tip of his head and what might have been an eye-roll.

_What was that about?_

“It is good that you’re here,” Nate cut in. Teddy looked away from Billy, some spun-sugar fractal between them vanishing back into his imagination. “We’ve lost time that we really needed but now that the weather’s getting better and summer’s coming, we’ll be able to get a lot more done.”

“What he means is ‘welcome back,’” Eli filled in dryly. He clapped Teddy on the shoulder, and the group started to move back toward the spot where Nate’s equipment was all spread out on the ground. “We’ve started talking costumes, if you’ve got any ideas.”

Teddy fell in step. “I’m not sure. I’m not convinced that I’ll be able to pull off the whole tights-look.” (Was it his imagination or did Billy’s cheeks go a little pink at his joke? Teddy filed that observation away for later consideration.) His eyes dropped to Billy’s legs, currently hidden away inside jeans just on the looser side of fashionable. He pulled his gaze away, embarrassment setting in for what he’d been about to contemplate. Tights were probably a bad idea all around.

“Cargo pants? That and a vest would be awesome,” Eli suggested. He’d had his own costume figured out forever; Teddy’d seen the sketches on his phone. “They’ve got pockets.”

“Pockets are a definite plus. Where else am I going to stash my portable Kang-detector and my Pokédex?”

Eli and Billy laughed at that, a joke Greg never would have understood. Teddy’s wounded heart took the sound and wrapped it around himself like a bandage. Here. Here was somewhere he could really belong.

* * *

Back; Teddy was back. A month ago, two, Billy would have been miffed—maybe even angry that Teddy had vanished on them and then been welcomed in again as though nothing had gone wrong. Except now everything was different. Billy had atoned for his sins, made his amends and been forgiven. And the team was whole again.

There’d been a Teddy-shaped hole in the air during the past few practices. Ironic, considering that Teddy-shaped could really mean anything.

His return didn’t fix everything, of course. He was still unfairly good with his powers, and Billy’s control was only improving in little bits and pieces. Especially with the new thing, the pressure against his spine that rose up sometimes, a feeling that skittered out of reach whenever he tried to do something with it on purpose.

At least flying was getting easier, even if he still fell when his concentration broke, at least once taking Nate down with him.

But this time, when Teddy was there with his hand stretched out, Billy took the help without a second thought.

His hand slipped easily into Teddy’s; too easily. His skin was warm and so soft, and Billy’s hand fit perfectly in his. Teddy was himself right then, not green, not big—well. Bigger than Billy, the muscles in his arm tightening as he pulled Billy to his feet without any effort at all. He could lift Billy that easily too, pin him up against a wall and-

“Billy? You okay?” Teddy frowned at him, letting go of his hand.

Billy’s face went hot and he reeled back a step on the grass. His heel caught on something and his arms pinwheeled, grabbing onto air. He got his balance, but only barely, and nodded. Speaking right then was a bad idea; he didn’t trust his voice not to crack. That couple of inches apart had been way too close, his traitor of a brain betraying him in the worst possible way. 

“Yeah, I’m good. Just a bit- dizzy. Yeah. That.” It was a terrible excuse, but Billy didn’t wait around to hear Teddy call him out for it. He scrubbed his sweaty hands along the thighs of his jeans and turned away, closing his eyes to reach for his powers again.

He lifted off the ground again but barely made it more than a couple of inches before his imagination decided to fire up again. _Teddy in his basketball uniform, the tank top open down the sides and shorts high on his thighs-_

The bubble of his power broke again. He caught himself before he fell over this time, dropping the measly couple of inches back to the ground and landing on his feet. “Ugh,” he spat out in frustration, his heart thrumming fast in his chest. 

It hadn’t been this bad when Teddy had first come back. But in the couple of weeks since, seeing him every couple of days, Billy had been scrabbling on a very slippery slope.

“I’m taking a break,” Billy announced, striding quickly across the grass and flopping down under the shade of a tree. “I hate everything.”

Teddy followed. Billy hated and loved him for it all at once. Because _that_ wasn’t making his life more confusing or anything. But he had Teddy’s friendship now, and he couldn’t risk losing it.

Because one day Teddy would meet some guy who was as gorgeous as he was. Unlike Billy, who was all elbows and angles, with hair that would never behave and a gangly awkwardness that his parents swore he’d grow out of one day. Teddy wasn’t awkward at all. He’d meet someone and fall head over heels, and if Billy had made things weird in the meantime, then he’d lose Teddy for good.

Nope. Keep it as friends, never let any signs of his crush spill off his unruly tongue. Then even when he’d have nothing else, he’d still have this.

Nate paused in the middle of his argument with Eli and came over as well, crouching down next to Billy. “Are you okay?” His brow furrowed, concern obvious, and Billy let out a puff of air as a sigh.

“Yeah,” he said contritely, propping himself up on his elbows. Teddy sat on his other side, one leg curled under him, and Billy refused to look at the way his cargo pants tugged across his hips. “I’m just frustrated. I can’t seem to keep focused. It’s like there’s something more there, something I should be able to reach and _do_ something with, but I just… can’t.”

“You can’t yet,” Nate reassured him. “But I’m sure you will. Maybe you need a change in approach.”

“Meditating?” Teddy suggested from Billy’s other side, and why was he glaring at Nate’s hand? Nate wasn’t doing anything with it, even though it rested on the ground close to Billy’s. “My mom’s big on that sort of thing. Pilates, yoga, all that stuff. She says it helps her ‘find her center.’ Whatever that means.”

Billy didn’t have a whole lot of time for what sounded mostly like glorified hamstring stretches, but it wasn’t like he had any better ideas. “It’s worth a shot,” he conceded. “I couldn’t do worse.”

“At least you’re hitting the targets more consistently now.” Nate rose and looked down at Billy for a second, hesitating. “You’re doing great.” He cast a glance at Teddy and then headed off again, something familiar in his awkward movements.

“That was almost reassuring. Nate must have hit his head,” Billy cracked into the quiet that followed. He sat up fully, pulling his crossed legs underneath him. The late spring sun wasn’t exactly warm, the cold seeping into his butt from the firm ground.

Teddy flickered an eyebrow, chewed on his lip like he was deciding something. The sun glinted off the rings in his ear when he turned his head, and Billy wondered again. Real, not real? He kept the earrings when he shifted, so probably real. “I think he likes you,” Teddy proclaimed after a moment. “ _Like_ -likes you.” He tracked Nate with his eyes, keeping his voice quiet.

“Nate?” Billy scoffed, now doing the same. Nate didn’t look back at them, talking to Eli in a progressively more animated way. “I don’t think he’s even gay. And why would he be into _me_?”

Instead of replying with possible reasons why Billy might be awesome enough for someone to have a crush on him, Teddy only shrugged. Fair enough. It wasn’t like the list would be very long. “It’s just a hunch.” He glanced up, his unfairly blue eyes locking on Billy’s for a moment before he looked away again. “Would you go out with him, if he did?” 

“Come on, he’s from the future. What if I’m his great-great-great grandfather somehow?” Billy felt the panic-babble rising up inside. “Not that I have any plans to become a father, at least not the obvious way, because … yeah. Girls would be a problem. But no. Not even.” Nate? Nate was cute, sure, but not the way Teddy was. He couldn’t let Teddy think that he was interested in Nate either, because… _because._ It was really important that he didn’t think that. Vitally so.

He needed to calm down. Think his answer through. Come up with a reason that absolutely wasn’t _because I’d much rather go out with you._

Billy’s runaway mouth settled on, “it would mess with team dynamics.” _Shit._ That… that hadn’t been the best choice. He couldn’t take it back now, though, only try and make that ‘not dating team-mates’ pronouncement somehow sound less final.

“And what about when we broke up? I mean, I’m only fifteen. And Nate’s the same, even if technically he’s more like negative-nine hundred and eighty-five. We’re all still really young. So logically, nothing would last. And then things would get awkward.” 

Like right now. This moment was especially awkward.

Teddy didn’t say anything, just watched him run down and lapse into flustered silence. “Makes sense,” he replied, at the point when the quiet between them was at its most suffocating. Why was he lost in thought like that? _He_ didn’t have a crush on Nate, did he? Maybe that was why he’d come back to the team and it had nothing to do with Billy at all. It would be so typical of Billy’s life for things to work out that way.

“Not that other people shouldn’t,” Billy tried to backtrack, even though the thought of Nate and Teddy together was enough to make his back teeth clench together hard enough to break something. “No-one should listen to me when it comes to relationship advice. I don’t know anything about anything.”

“You know lots of stuff,” Teddy argued, still seeming distracted. He snapped out of it, running his hand through his golden hair and pushing it back off his face.

“I was thinking about what Nate said. About meditation,” he clarified, and Billy’s momentary flash of panic faded away.

“Meditation? Don’t you need to be calm and focused for that?” Billy cracked, because when all else failed, sarcasm was his one solace. “I’m not exactly known for being able to sit still.”

Teddy grinned at him, and the some of the tension faded from the air. “Case in point, right? What can it hurt to try?”

He could imagine plenty of ways something like this could backfire, but what the hell. At least it had gotten them far away from the topic of anyone dating Nate. Billy straightened his back and rearranged his legs into something closer to what he thought a lotus position might be. “Like this?” He settled in and closed his eyes.

“Yeah, I think so.” There was a shuffling sound and when Billy cracked one eye open, Teddy had moved to sit the same way, directly across from him. “Now just…” Teddy waved a hand in the air. “Not-think.”

“Oh sure. Not-think. It sounds so easy when you put it that way,” Billy snorted. “Would you like me to not-breathe as well? Not-digest?”

“Not-farting would do.”

Billy’s eyes flew open, because he _hadn’t_ \- and Teddy was laughing at him, the stupid jerk. “Funny man.”

“Shhh. Close your eyes and … I dunno. If thinking about nothing won’t work, then… focus on something you want to do.”

Yeah, that was a bad idea. But he could pick something other than tackling Teddy and kissing him stupid. “Fly,” Billy said firmly. “I want to fly.” It would be so damned cool if he could just figure out what he was doing wrong.

“Okay, so say that to yourself. Make it like a mantra. Something to focus on so your thoughts don’t bounce all over the place.”

Billy nodded, though he wasn’t exactly confident about his chances of making this work. At least if he looked like a total goofus, it was only Nate, Teddy and Eli who would see. “I want to fly,” Billy repeated obediently.

Nothing happened.

“I want to float?” Billy tried, and if that worked at least he wouldn’t go shooting off into the tree branches overhead. Still nothing. Say it like a mantra, focus his thoughts. It should be so easy. “I want to float. I want to float.”

He felt ridiculous and exposed, but with his eyes shut he could almost imagine that they were alone, only their breathing and the sound of his own voice mattering. “ _Iwanttofloat. Iwanttofloat._ ” The pressure in his back opened up, flowed up his spine to sit warm at the base of his brain. He reached for it and it ran away again, so Billy stopped reaching. “ _Iwanttofloat.Iwanttofloat._ ”

It came back, warmth slipping in around the edges. As long as he didn’t try, just made space for it, the feeling kept on building.

The ground wasn’t cold under his butt anymore, the chill fading away when he hadn’t been paying attention.

“You’re doing it!” Teddy’s excited cheer broke into the muttered rhythm and Billy faltered — but didn’t fall. Opening his eyes, he saw that Teddy was right. A blue glow seemed to be laid over the world, like a bad photo filter. No… he was _inside_ the glow, hovering cross-legged off the ground about three feet in the air. Teddy had scrambled to his feet and Billy floated around his eye-level, meeting his gaze square-on.

“What does it look like from out there?” he breathed in wonder. “I feel like I’m glowing.”

“It’s awesome,” Teddy agreed. “You look like Doctor Strange right now, all blue and shiny.”

“Not sparkly? That’d be cool,” Billy joked, wiggling his fingers where they rested on his knees. Little sparks shot out, not his lightning but close. He felt more stable right then than any of the other times he’d tried flying, sitting easily in the air. Would having something to focus tightly on make his lightning easier to control as well? He should try that. A wizard’s staff would be boss. He wobbled, his concentration faltering for a second. _Iwanttofloat._

“There you go! Baby steps, I guess?” Teddy’s wide-eyed wonder and easy pleasure in Billy’s success made him feel even more like a heel for being so stupidly jealous, a wave of guilt washed away a moment later by the light in Teddy’s eyes. _That’s for me._

Billy couldn’t close his eyes again, not and break the connection that wove between them, Teddy’s gaze locked on and holding him steady. He sank into the tingle and warmth of his powers and slowly, carefully, let them go. His feet touched down on the ground and the blue glow faded, the pressure vanishing back down into wherever it was living when he didn’t want it.

“Baby steps,” he agreed, breathless. “That did something. I don’t know what, but it felt totally different this time. Easier.”

Teddy nodded. “It looked really different too. If you think it was the meditation thing that helped… my mom’s really into this stuff. She’s got this stack of self-help books at the apartment — how to actualize your desires, ‘find your inner fire,’ that kind of thing. I could borrow a couple for you if you wanted.” He glanced over at Nate and Eli, the pair of them heading in their direction. “Or you could come over to my place some time, if you don’t want heckling from the peanut gallery,” he offered with a grin.

Over to Teddy’s house? Possibly meeting his _mother_? Was that a step towards something, or a hint? Not a chance. It was a nice gesture, from a nice guy, Billy told himself firmly. A teammate. Nothing more.

“Yeah, that’d be cool. Get the humiliating failure part over with mostly in private. You just have to promise not to take any photos for twitter,” he added with a rueful grin. Was it far enough behind them that he could turn it into a joke?

Teddy laughed, so it was probably okay. He held up two fingers in a visual promise. “Entirely off the record. No evidence. Scout’s honour.”

“In that case,” Billy promised recklessly, “I’m all yours.”

* * *

Teddy chose an afternoon when he knew that his mother would be out for ages, a house showing upstate that would take her at least an hour to get to – and another just to get back. It would give them time to hang out in the living room without prying eyes, go through her books without constantly keeping an ear and eye on the door.

“Does she leave you alone a lot?” Billy asked, following Teddy into the small Brooklyn apartment and dropping his bookbag on the floor. He looked around, surveyed the place. There wasn’t a whole lot to take in. A small living room, a smaller kitchen off one end. The hallway stretching out the other way, two bedrooms and a bathroom cramped enough that Teddy could reach both walls at the same time, without stretching. It wasn’t much. But the walls were painted in cheerful yellows and blues, the mis-matched furniture more amazingly comfortable than any fancy coordinated multi-piece living room set. If Billy was going to judge them for it, better to know now.

He didn’t, not a single lift of his lip or furrow of his brow. He just walked in, checked the place out, and flopped down on one corner of the old beige couch like he’d always belonged there.

The biggest knot in Teddy’s stomach unraveled itself and disappeared. He’d been more worried about that than he’d realized. “Sometimes. She’s got to do house showings when the buyers want to, so she’s out more in the evenings. One of the neighbours would come in to babysit when I was little, but that was years ago. I don’t mind. It’s nice to have the place to myself.”

Sometimes it would be nice to have someone around to talk to, but when would that be her again? As much as she tried, his problems were a lot more complicated than his very human mother would ever understand.

“That would be nice,” Billy sighed the sigh of the long-suffering. “My bedroom’s pretty much the only place I can go where my brothers aren’t. And even then I’m not supposed to lock the door. ‘What if there’s a fire and we can’t get to you,’” he mimicked someone, rolling his eyes. “Maybe I should start static-shocking anyone who touches the handle.”

“Because that won’t out you super-fast,” Teddy joked, padding quietly to the kitchen to grab a bag of chips and a couple of cokes from the fridge. “That or you’ll have electricians crawling all over the place trying to find the broken wiring.”

“Hey, I never claimed to be the strategic genius. That’s Nate’s job.” Billy picked up one of the books on the table as Teddy came around to join him on the couch. “Is this the one you were talking about?”

Teddy nodded. He put down the snacks and grabbed the other book, all flagged with post-it tabs on the pages that had seemed relevant. “I read them yesterday; mom thinks I’m dealing with school issues,” he said dryly. She’d definitely looked suspicious but hadn’t asked any more questions, leaving his pile alone. Now he sat there with a book in his hand that had words in the title like ‘actualizing your natural self,’ and felt like an idiot. What if it didn’t work, and he’d dragged Billy all the way out to his place for nothing?

Then they’d have spent some time bonding and that would only make them better team-mates. And as much as he liked his alone time, there was something about having Billy in his space that was a lot more comfortable than he’d expected. He didn’t take over the place as much as he fit into it, made himself at home like he wasn’t even trying.

“If you could solve high school with a couple of self-help books, these writers would be billionaires,” Billy snorted. He left the book lying in his lap, unopened. “Your school issues-” he asked, chewing on his bottom lip when he hesitated. “How bad is it, really? Honestly.”

Teddy let out a puff of air, his mood deflating. “People are mostly leaving me alone. Completely alone,” he modified his answer. “A school-wide silent treatment. It’s not great.”

Billy winced, and the show of empathy was enough to soothe the worst of the ragged edges inside. “That stinks. I guess it could be worse? At least they’re not beating on you?”

“Nah.” Teddy shook his head. “No-one would try. Though at least I have a healing factor that would make that not so bad, even if someone did get a few good hits in. I’ve only got a year left anyway,” he said, trying to look on the bright side. “Then I’ll be going to college and I can start again. Start fresh. And since I’ve got you guys now, the rest doesn’t matter so much.”

Billy brightened at that, the shadows leaving his eyes. “Just point me in the right direction and I’ll zap them all,” he promised with a laugh. Teddy was mostly sure he was kidding.

“You need to figure out how to aim consistently in order to do that, Sparky McGee.” Teddy teased him and Billy shoved Teddy’s knee with his toe.

Billy laughed and, shaking his head, flipped open the book to the first marked page. “Right then. Chapter one. The Law of Attraction and You.” The tops of his ears flushed pink for some reason and he stumbled over the last word, but shook the moment off a second later. “Come on, book. Show me how to manifest stable flight and I’ll take back every joke I’ve ever made about Oprah.”

* * *

A couple of hours wasn’t enough for any kind of breakthrough, obviously. But some texts from Billy later that week that _read_ breathless suggested that he’d figured out some more things between that afternoon and the next training session. He’d even showed up for the team meeting with a ragged red cape chucked over his shoulders, one that Eli had immediately started ribbing him for.

“The kitchen scissors were sticky, okay? They chewed up the sides when I tried to cut this stuff, then my dad came home and yelled at me for taking over the kitchen table for ‘Hallowe’en costumes,’ and I had to try and finish it on my bedroom floor. Besides, I don’t see _you_ hemming anything.”

Nate’s call to action had cut off Billy’s indignation, but the cape stayed on. As much as he tried to stay focused on the exercises, Teddy’s gaze and his thoughts kept drifting. He’d been so tempted, that day. It would have been easy to just say ‘hanging out has been fun. Let’s do it again sometime.’ Or to text him this week and ask him to go to the comic shop. Just to spend time with him, be around someone who actually seemed to enjoy his company.

He’d be better off texting Eli. Billy’d made it clear. Dating someone on the team was off limits. And even though Teddy hadn’t quite gotten around to the idea of being in _like_ with Billy, at least that way, the thought wouldn’t go away.

It was probably because Billy was his only gay friend. Teddy was adrift and bonding with Billy gave him an anchor. It was nothing more than that, and now he really needed to get his head back into the game because Nate’s drones were shooting laser beams-

Teddy dropped to the ground and rolled out of range, the low-powered energy beam fizzling out on contact with the grass where Teddy had been. The attack wouldn’t have done any real harm, but getting zapped would still sting. Not to mention reveal that he’d been completely distracted in the middle of a fight. Again.

“Teddy!” Eli yelled, whipping a throwing star at a drone that zoomed by his head. It hit on a bad angle and bounced off, the drone swinging around for another pass.

“Sorry! On it!” He called out, shifting his body into something bigger, greener, Hulk-ier, that let him grab one of the drones out of the air and hit the off-button before tossing it to land at Nate’s feet.

Another zap sounded and Billy yelped. “Hey! Ow!” Rubbing his hip, he spun around to rejoin the group, his cape whipping around his legs with the movement. “This is taking too long. I’m gonna manifest these things into shrapnel. _Iwantthedronestostop_ ,” he proclaimed, grinning at Teddy in a moment of a shared joke. Nothing happened, obviously, but then Billy stopped moving.

Teddy vaulted over a bench that was between them and skidded to a halt. “Billy, what are you doing?”

He held still, thinking, then put his arms out in front of him, palms forward. “Maybe this _will_ work on things other than flying. _Iwantthedronestostop. Iwantthedronestostop. Iwantthedronestostop._ ”

At first nothing happened except Nate’s drones circling closer, their homing beacons training in on Billy. “Billy, watch out!” Eli yelled, but Billy wasn’t listening.

Teddy noticed the change in his eyes first, a blue glow starting to take shape. It was the same glow that had surrounded him when they’d been practicing his levitation, an eerie, iridescent blue that seemed to shimmer like the northern lights. More than his eyes now, it spread down his arms, his hands, until even Billy’s feet were encased and he lifted off the ground. It was only an inch or two before he stopped rising, hovering there.

_“Iwantthedronestostop.”_

It wasn’t just flying; Billy was… what? Casting a _spell_? It felt like that, his mantra turning into words of power, the air itself so electric-charged that all the hair lifted on Teddy’s arms. 

“You’ve got this, Bee,” Teddy blurted out, his face tipped up as he watched. “Focus on what you want.”

Waves of blue light expanded outward from Billy. When it touched the drones, one by one, they sparked and dropped soundlessly to the ground. And Billy glowed.

Teddy couldn’t look away. Even if the world had been ending around them, he wouldn’t have been able to care.

His eyes alight, everything about Billy was suffused with joy. It radiated out from him, magnetic, compelling, drawing Teddy in until there was nothing in the world but Billy’s delight, Billy’s radiance, Billy’s smile.

_Oh shit._

It clicked over inside him, an alarm he hadn’t known was set. 

Billy Kaplan was a wildfire. Teddy wanted to burn.

* * *

Billy Kaplan was intimately familiar with the jock type. Except, and incredibly frustratingly, he had managed to cock-block himself from getting close to any kind of intimate _anything_ with the one jock he really, really wanted to get to know better.

There were moments when he wondered. When he looked at his phone and realized that Teddy had texted him sixteen times in ten minutes just because he was bored. When he sat next to Teddy on his beat-up old couch and worked through his spellcasting, their knees coming so close to touching. When he turned his head a little faster than usual and caught the hasty shuffle of Teddy looking away.

But he never said anything, and so Billy didn’t either.

Only the _maybe_ kept pushing at him, and Teddy hadn’t shown any signs of being interested in anyone else. Not Nate, not any of the guys at his school, no online boyfriends. At least none he ever talked about.

If he was interested, he’d say something.

Except Billy was interested, and _Billy_ wasn’t saying anything.

Damn his stupid brain for being logical.

And damn it as well for reminding him of all he had to lose if he tried and things went sideways.

The late spring sun beat down on him, unseasonably warm for this time of year. Billy focused on his spell, on keeping himself in the air, on not tripping over the ends of his cape when he landed. Teddy was at his back — _Hulkling_. He had to think of him as Hulkling while they were in costume.

Hulkling finished off the last of the attacking holograms and the program faded, Patriot letting out a whoop of victory as Iron Lad touched down.

“Not bad,” Iron Lad agreed, a smile breaking through the clouds that had been lingering in his eyes lately. “Not bad at all.”

“I’m going to take that as a major compliment,” Hulkling grinned, fist-bumping Patriot as he passed by. “We rocked that one.” He turned and- and then seemed to stop himself before he reached out for Billy, his big green hand falling back to his side. “That was slick,” he did offer the compliment while shifting out of Hulkling and back to Teddy, his massive shoulders slimming down and skin fading from green to his usual pale peach.

“We were awesome,” Billy agreed, letting go of the last tingles and sparks of his magic. He was just himself again, looking at Teddy, wishing he could be more of the reason for the light in Teddy’s eyes.

Ugh. Billy wandered off toward the tree at the edge of the field, the patch of grass that had become his sack-out spot in between bouts and training exercises. “What’s next?” he called back, but Nate didn’t answer right away. Billy flopped down on the ground, his cape fluttering out underneath him and his hands behind his head. He looked up at the green leaves, the blue sky filtering between them, and let himself indulge in his favourite painful indulgence: wishing he wasn’t an idiot.

_IwishIwish…_

I wish-

Wishing was dangerous these days. He was much better off forgetting about all the things he’d screwed up, the bad moves he’d made that ensured the good things would never happen. He was most of the way to becoming a superhero now. It should be enough.

Footsteps crunched in the dirt not too far from his head and he knew who it was from the sound. Teddy settled down nearby, and Billy tipped his head up and back to get a glimpse. Cross-legged and casual, Teddy was in his own face now, elbows resting on his knees. “You’re ruminating,” Teddy pointed out, and Billy groaned.

“Can we go back to the time where you didn’t know me well enough to point out stuff like that?”

Teddy pretended to consider it for a second, then shook his head. “Nah. I like us better this way.” So did Billy. That was the problem.

Teddy fell silent but he raised an eyebrow, a cue that was supposed to encourage Billy to keep talking. It worked, most days.

Nate and Eli had started bickering again in the far corner; they’d have a few minutes to talk before training started up again. Billy could say something, take the risk, break the wall that he had been responsible for putting up in the first place.

Or he could keep his mouth shut and not make _his_ problems into _Teddy’s_ problems.

That was another thing Billy wasn’t good at.

He settled back down and stared up at the sky, his head cradled in his hands and the grass prickling the bare skin above his gauntlets. “I wish I’d never said what I did about dating within the team.”

There. Now Teddy could do whatever he wanted with that information. Billy’s heart pounded painfully in his chest, feeling about six sizes too big for his ribcage. It forced the air out of his lungs, everything squeezing tight. Maybe he was having a heart attack. That would be so typical.

Teddy moved, shifting to sit where Billy could see his face. He grinned, a one-sided, wry sort of smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Why? Nate’s looking better to you these days?” He asked it so casually, but the tightness in his voice was anything but casual.

Billy propped himself up on his elbows to look at Teddy, then pushed himself all the way up to sitting. Joking; they were joking about it? Here he was, baring his soul, and Teddy thought he was joking. Billy shook his head, his mouth going dry just to make his physical discomfort complete. “Not Nate.”

Teddy held his gaze for a second longer, and there it was—a flash of understanding, a grimace that could mean anything at all, no specifics for Billy to pin any kind of hope on. “I didn’t think you were Eli’s type,” he offered, and he was trying so hard to be blasé about it that the effect looped around to be entirely the opposite.

Not content with cardiac arrest, Billy’s heart tried to climb up out of his dry throat. _Please, God. I promise I won’t ask for anything else ever again._ He found his voice, swallowing against his dry mouth. “Funny. I’m afraid of messing up. If I say anything.”

Now Teddy understood. Billy could see the shift, feel it in the air, in the ground between them, in the way Teddy leaned forward without moving the rest of him. Something grabbed at the middle of Billy’s ribcage and _pulled_ , an invisible cord drawing him closer, closer to Teddy, to his chance, to his future.

Teddy wet his lips and it was the first time that Billy actually considered the idea that he might be nervous too. Why? Teddy was the beautiful one, the prize to be quested for. And Billy, unworthy knight, didn’t have much at all to offer.

“You’re afraid of making the team dynamics awkward?” Teddy asked. He knew, he absolutely knew and he was urging Billy on, leaning closer, his voice low and intense.

Billy nodded, his words drying up and vanishing. He pulled his legs in under him, Teddy only inches away, his hand resting flat on the grass between them. Billy dropped his eyes and looked at Teddy’s hand, the broad palm, his strong fingers. He reached out, wanted to lay his hand over Teddy’s and feel the heat of his skin. Fear stopped him halfway there. “Yeah. Essentially. That. And of losing something else that’s become really important to me.”

Teddy’s whole body relaxed, like Billy had answered an entirely different and much more important question. He turned his hand over. He met Billy halfway, pressing his palm flat against Billy’s. The heat of him soaked into Billy’s bones, a magic potion coursing fire through Billy’s veins.

Teddy’s gaze searched Billy’s face for a moment and then, apparently satisfied with whatever he was that he found there, Teddy’s breath caught. “I’m willing to take the risk.”

The idea of perfect first kisses was ridiculous. That had been one of Billy’s firmly-held beliefs from the time he was old enough to understand what the point of a kiss was. There was no way two people could figure something like that out without being awkward, sloppy, at weird angles, banging teeth together – the logistics alone would be a nightmare. His one previous experience hadn’t changed his mind.

What he hadn’t counted on was that it could be all those things and amazing at the same time.

Billy lurched forward almost as soon as Teddy finished speaking, urgency bubbling in his blood. Teddy moved at the same time, eyes closing. Their foreheads smacked together hard enough that stars flashed white behind Billy’s eyelids.

“Ow!” Billy reeled back, blinking hard to clear his vision. Teddy hissed out a breath, rubbing his forehead. He tried to lean in again but Billy leaned the same way, on the odd thought that if he went _left_ this time, then they wouldn’t collide. Instead his lips hit Teddy’s chin and Teddy almost licked his nose.

Teddy started laughing, an almost hysterical sound that started an echoing laugh bubbling up inside Billy. He took Billy’s face in his hands, sliding his fingers into Billy’s hair and holding him steady. “Stay still,” he scolded, his eyes alight. His touch sent sparks running up and down Billy’s skin, a line Billy thought was metaphorical until he glanced down and noticed blue tingles at the ends of his fingers.

Warm, his hands were warm, cupping Billy’s face and steadying him. Then Teddy’s lips were on his. Gentle at first, shy and unsure- Billy grabbed onto Teddy’s vest and pulled him in. He leaned into the kiss, pressed his mouth hard against Teddy’s until all that shyness melted away. Wet and unpracticed, teeth against his tongue, the laugh building up inside him until he couldn’t contain the bubbling mix of delight and exultation any longer- it was everything their first kiss should be and nothing like any book or tv show had ever told him it might.

Chest tight and breathing impossible, Billy eventually had to break the kiss, sucking in air as he forced his fingers to uncurl from around the light fabric of Teddy’s vest. Teddy looked as dazed as he felt, letting go of Billy and letting his hands drop to rest—not on the ground, but on Billy’s bent knees.

“So that’s a ‘yes’ to dating me, then?” Billy asked, breathless and his heart pounding its way out of his chest.

Teddy laughed, pushing his hair out of his eyes. “I thought I just asked _you_. I’m gonna assume we’re on the same page. Though as far as kissing goes-”

“I haven’t had a lot of practice at this-” Billy started to confess, his cheeks flushing hot.

“Me either,” Teddy cut him off before it could get weird. “But we’ll get better at it. Assuming you want to.” And he turned red, though the goofy grin never left his face.

_Me. He wants me. Why? If I don’t ask, maybe he’ll never realize he’s made a big mistake._

The dark thoughts tried to burrow in but Billy ignored them, shutting the door on doubt. “Oh man. I’m, um. Looking forward to that. Not that I’ve spent time thinking about it, or- _dammit._ ” Billy buried his head in his hands and waited for the wave of embarrassment to pass. “Going to stop talking now.”

“Sure,” Teddy snorted, but kindly, warmly, like Billy’s flustered mess was somehow endearing. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

“Shush.” Billy gathered his thoughts, scattered as they were, and managed to look Teddy square in the eye. Blue. His eyes were astonishing, perfect blue, and was his jawline sharper than usual? Had he entirely lost the breadth of shoulder he grew into as Hulkling? He was too perfect right now, utterly glorious and somehow… unreachable. “If we’re going to be kissing again,” Billy said after the pause, “I want to know what you really look like.”

Teddy frowned, drawing back a couple of inches until there was air between them again. “You’ve seen what I really look like. This is me.”

Billy frowned, taking in all the little details, the places where his hair usually waved a different direction, his completely clear skin. “Is it, though? No human being is this perfect. Not without photoshop.”

“Are you saying that you think I’m perfect?” Teddy teased, but there was fear and panic in his eyes. 

“I will anyway, no matter what,” Billy coaxed, as gentle as he could make his voice. He grabbed Teddy’s hand and hung on, tight. “Show me _you_.”

The pause went on a long time. Then, hesitant, definitely freaking out inside, Teddy nodded slowly. He held Billy’s gaze and he shifted, his body relaxing as if some constant low-key buzz or tension had suddenly been let go.

Billy held his breath. Only Teddy wasn’t that different, when it all settled out. Slimmer, yes, with baby fat still in his cheeks. Not as muscle-y. Closer to Billy’s build, though he’d still be taller if they were standing. Still golden and peaches-and-cream, though his hair stuck up a little on one side, and his eyes had more grey in them than their usual almost-supernatural blue. His earrings still marched down his ears, solid rings of steel confirming what Billy had wondered about all along.

And still desperately, achingly beautiful.

“That’s it?” Billy asked, breathless. “Promise?”

“Promise.” Teddy still looked nervous, though he didn’t take his hand back. “You’re not mad?”

Billy frowned again. “At what? You’re better this way,” he declared firmly. The surge of want racing through him proved that. Teddy was suddenly, entirely within reach, a boy Billy could easily lov – _like_.

“How so?”

“Because now you actually feel human.”

Teddy looked more stunned than flattered for a second, then recovered with a wry smile tugging at his unbelievably kissable mouth. “You are easily one of the weirdest people I’ve ever met.”

“It must be why you like me.” The irreverent words flew out of Billy’s mouth before he could try and stop them, figure out what kind of thing he was supposed to be saying to the guy who had—apparently, without suffering brain damage first—agreed to be his boyfriend. Neither of them had _said_ that word yet, but it was there underneath.

“Something like that.” Teddy flashed Billy a smile filled with as much uncertainty and wonder as Billy was feeling right about then. He reached out and gently, carefully, brushed Billy’s bangs back from his eyes. Billy followed the touch, leaning into Teddy’s fingertips.

A strangled cough cut in, popping the imaginary bubble of solitude that had surrounded them. The word snapped back into tight focus—the sun shining down on them, the wind in the trees, their two teammates standing a few feet away and watching the scene. Eli raised an eyebrow. Nate folded his arms. “Can we get back to training now?” he asked pointedly. “Or are you guys going to be busy for a while?” 

Teddy dropped his hand and jumped back, clearing a few inches of space between them, while Billy fought against the flush that wanted to rise hot in his cheeks. “We were just… talking,” he finished lamely.

“Finally,” Eli snorted. “Now maybe we can get things done during practice without you assholes pining over each other all the time.”

“I wasn’t _pining_ ,” Teddy objected, scrambling to his feet. He didn’t blush, but Billy suspected that was entirely due to his totally unfair shape-shifting cop-out. He followed suit, brushing the grass off his cape. Teddy had been pining over him? Enough that Eli had noticed? Billy grinned at the thought.

“You’ve both been pining, it’s been getting gross, and I was almost at the point of locking you in a room together and not letting you out until at least one of you admitted it,” Eli told Teddy firmly.

“That seems a bit extreme,” Nate said, his glance back at Billy almost seeming… wistful? Then the look was gone, as quickly as if Billy had imagined the entire thing.

The teasing let up as they settled into the next test Nate had devised, but the grin on Billy’s face and the bubbling, light feeling inside his chest didn’t fade. It wouldn’t, ever, he was sure of it. And when he and Teddy were fighting back to back, at least once, Teddy’s little finger caught hold of Billy’s and held it tight.

They were still a bunch of teenage idiots, playing dress-up in hacked-together costumes. They had a sometimes-unbelievable mission, their powers were unreliable at best, they had no mentor or base or even a name of their own. But now, here, with Teddy, Billy was home.

_fin_


End file.
